A Spark of Light in a Sea of Darkness
by SlytherclawQueen
Summary: All she wanted was freedom. She didn't know fate had other plans for her and another Dark Lord she was destined to stand beside. She was stronger than her toxic pull to Tom Riddle..."I'm not much of a follower," she said as they spun around the dance floor, Riddles quick reflexes the only thing stopping them from tripping over each other. "I know." His lips twitched into a smile.
1. Chapter 1

**This story will be dark. Tom Riddle will be very much himself, a sociopath to the extreme. It will have a slight AU to it considering that the main character does not exist. Things will be happening a bit different but will also remain the same over all. Dumbledore and Grindelwald still have a past, but it will be a bit more complicated than in the books.**

 **Give the Prologue a chance and if you like it review. I already have chapter one waiting and ready to be posted.**

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 **Edited by Vetis Vile**

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 **Prologue**

Like a deer fleeing from a hunter she ran, her legs bloodied and bruised though she didn't dare falter in her steps. Large roots struck around her, trying to trip her up and bring her back to captivity, but her determination allowed her to keep going without losing step. This was her one chance at freedom; the only shot she had to get away from the man who had _'raised'_ her throughout her seventeen years of life.

She dreamed of feeling the sand in-between her toes and smelling the pine of the forest after rainfall. She wanted to wake up and not be afraid that it was going to be her last day. She wanted to feel safe, to find joy in mindless things that she never had a chance to enjoy before: candy, fiction books;

Friendship.

The only friend she ever had was a rat when she was five. She used to steal extra food just for him from the kitchen and would tell him about her dreams and what she had learned that day. She knew it was silly, it was just a rat, but back then she cried at night, wishing for someone to talk to and play with. At such a tender age she didn't understand the cruelty of the world yet.

She learned of it, however, after he tortured the rat for punishment when she was caught napping -she was supposed to be studying -that caring for _anything_ was dangerous. He killed the rat right in front of her with the most disarming smile, a smile that was soft despite the emptiness of his eyes.

" _If you are to be powerful and untouchable my child, than you must learn that love is a weakness that enemy's will only exploit. I had to learn this once and now so do you."_

She knew in a way he was correct, that he wanted to make sure she had a demonstration of the consequences that came with love.

But she wanted to care for something, to have something care for her. She was just another weapon at his disposal. Daughter or not, he didn't love her (whatever _love_ was, though, she was sure that what he gave her wasn't it). He tormented her, isolated her, manipulated her; she refused to sit back and let him keep using her to his own ends.

So she waited until the most opportune time and she ran.

He trained her well, perhaps _too_ well. He was gone, much too far to come back and stop her in time. His men of mindless minions were nothing compared to her magic and skills.

Daughter like father in that department.

The air was crisp, she wasn't sure but she thought she may have heard someone at the mansion say it was nearing December. The cold only drove her forward as it bit harshly at her exposed skin. Around her she could see flashes of light that meant to stop her, but her destination was right ahead.

Not much longer now.

She pumped her small legs harder, her cold breaths coming out like smoke as she navigated expertly through the darkness of the woods with only the moonlight as her guide. She should have known it wasn't going to go as smoothly as she hoped.

Her eyes widened in pain as her steps stumbled, nearly taking her down and ensnaring her in the aggressive tree roots lashing out at her feet and arms, causing red whelps and slashes across her skin.

She bit her lip to keep the scream in, her eyes watering as blood began to pour from the slicing hex that hit her back. She could tell it was deep, really deep, and cursed with dark magic, judging by the blinding pain wrecking her she couldn't stop now, not when she was so damn close. She had to keep going.

She refused to die here, a slave to a mad man.

Her body was on fire and yet numb; she could barely feel her feet due to the coldness of the snow seeping through her boots. It was like the very blood in her veins was beginning to freeze.

Trees flew passed her like hellish shadows, some of them even reaching out to grab her and getting her clothing instead.

She was moving slower now, her vision blurring from fatigue and loss of blood, but she could see it up ahead. She could see her salvation. She pushed herself to keep going, her breath quickening as darkness threatened to pull her under in its unforgiving hold of eternal sleep.

She heard a loud pop, strong magic stretching out in unadulterated rage. The tears were falling from her eyes now, fright making her stumble in her steps as the unstable magic stabbed threateningly at her skin like a thousand little needles. She could feel the panic shaking her very brittle, fragile bones, her breathing coming out as fearful gasps as she struggled to remain standing and moving.

He was here. He found out she had escaped.

She scoffed to herself, the sound bitter and angry. Of _course_ he would keep tabs on her. She should have known better than to think she could get away from him. She thought that maybe, just maybe, she was strong enough to escape his hold. She had been practicing her magic, devoting herself to becoming unstoppable with or without a wand.

It hadn't been an easy thing to do when her every move was watched and she was practicing magic outside of her studies.

Blinking through her tears, she forced herself to steel her spine and run faster, her eyes focused on the edge of the forest where the barriers would not affect her only way of transportation. She couldn't give up just yet, she needed to be determined to make it more now than ever. If she wasn't, he would surely kill her.

He had murdered for less.

She may have been Gellert Grindelwald's daughter, his _only_ child, but that didn't mean she was safe from his twisted ways. If anything she was subjected to it more than most in his attempt to make her his mold.

Oh, how he must be disappointed in his only _mistake_ of a child.

She didn't know much of her birth and her mother, but she had pieced together some time ago that she was unwanted. He didn't show any true interest in her until she sat one of his minion's robes on fire when she was very young.

Then she became just another witch at his disposal.

One step, two steps; she was only three more steps away from the ledge where the forest ended on the mountain. The crunching of snow under her feet sounded like drums, painfully loud as time seemed to slow and drag on.

 _Thump, thump, thump,_ her heart pounded, sweat on her brow despite the freezing cold. She was almost free...

This time a scream left her lips as another curse grazed her arm, slicing right through her skin like butter. Wounds were nothing new to her. She had been desensitized to pain some time ago, but there is only so much one person can take, no matter how strong.

Her eyes flickered.

She ungracefully dove forward, her body hurling over the ledge into the darkness of the cavern down below.

All she could do was smile in relief, the icy wind viciously whipping her long pale blonde hair around her like a halo of light as she fell further into the dark. Tainted air left her lungs as she breathed clean air back in, the taste of freedom so sweet on her tongue that a choked sob left her pallid lips. Tears fell like pools from her eyes, eyes with an exquisite light green that was much too ancient and tormented for someone so young.

"You lose," she whispered, her voice like the soft chime of a bell as she brought a simple silver ring she wore on her right hand to her blue tinted lips.

"Acantha!" she heard a deep voice roar, a voice she had learned to both fear and hate in the same breath.

"Goodbye...father," she managed to get out before slipping into unconsciousness, her small body flipping dangerously through the air and hurling fast towards whatever waited down at the bottom...

And then she was gone.

 _Friday, December 1st, 1944_

He had a feeling when he woke up that morning that something interesting was going to happen. He was more alert than usual (which was hard to accomplish considering he was always paying attention to everything), the cold chill on the back of his neck warning him that something was coming, something big, and that he needed to be on guard.

Eyes like dark obsidian scanned the grounds, outwardly looking bored. Only the slight narrowing of his constant analyzing gaze gave any indication that there was something not quite right.

While doing his Head Boy dutys he noticed a sudden flare of magic that alerted him to something that _should_ have been impossible.

Someone had entered the grounds, _magically_.

There were only two people who could have overrode the wards surrounding Hogwarts. One was the Headmaster and the other was Dumbledore, but they surely would have told _him_ if they were expecting someone.

With his hand on his wand he followed the magical pull, his body much too relaxed for a young man of seventeen, almost eighteen. If his classmates would have seen him they would most surely think him to be someone else.

His gaze was icy, his face blank; they only saw what he fed them and they ate it up easily.

But here in the darkness he felt at home and could show his true colors. He knew whatever breached the wards couldn't harm him. There were quite a few spells he would like to try if given the chance, and it would take some time before anyone else would reach him.

He knew of a particularly nasty spell that burnt the skin right off, like being dipped in acid. That one seemed quite...creative.

His head snapped to the right as something caught his eye, the chill returning. Upon further inspection he realized it was a person, a female by the looks of it, and from the distance it looked as if she wasn't moving. He slowly stepped closer, examining the paleness of her long hair that covered her body like a blanket. It didn't take a genius to see that something wasn't quite right with the stranger, beyond the obvious.

Under her was a glistening dark liquid staining the snow and most of her small, tangled body.

It was blood.

He tilted his head as he took her in, looking over her form and the ripped up clothes that barely covered her. Her build was delicately muscular and fit, as far as he could tell.

What would cause her to run, he wondered. She didn't seem malnourished like most were, due to the war.

He elegantly knelt down, his stoic gaze making it seem as if he was inspecting some poor dog that was hit by a car right in front of him. He moved the hair away from her face, pressing two fingers to the cold skin on her neck. She had a pulse, but it was very faint. If the wound making her bleed out didn't kill her, hypothermia surely would.

Judging by the angle of her leg, it was broken. She was lucky to not have broken her neck with how twisted her body was.

"What to do with you?" he murmured evenly, his deep voice smooth and disarmingly soft as he examined her face with stoic eyes.

Under the moonlight she seemed to glow, her pale skin and hair making it appear as if a halo of light was surrounding her, reflecting off the white of the snow. It was as if the very darkness couldn't touch her through the barricade of soft light.

It was a tad eerie, but Tom passed it off as a trick of the eye.

Continuing on with his examination of the stranger, he memorized her facial features: her small, pointed nose, inky black lashes, pale full lips which were tinted blue, and cheek bones so soft that it gave her a delicate and feminine appearance overall.

Pursing his lips slightly, he carefully eased his way into her mind only to pull himself out a second later. With more interest in his eyes this time he looked the girl over once more, noticing now that she had some of the typical characteristics of an aristocrat. Her clothes even seemed to be of top notch quality.

The only thing he was able to make out from the chaos of her mind was one word.

Grindelwald.

She was obviously not a Mudblood and wasn't suffering like most of Europe appeared to be against the Dark Lord. Was she perhaps fleeing from the _other_ side of the war? The side fighting to rid the world of disgusting, tainted blood?

He pulled out his wand and very lightly levitated her from the ground, careful not to aggravate her wounds further as he stood and looked her over once more, to make sure the move didn't worsen her condition.

As quickly as he could, he began to lead her into the school, swiftly making his way towards the medical wing. He kept his ears trained to the soft wheezing of her breath as he imagined her tiny heart struggling, working overtime just to keep her alive; to keep her drawing in air.

Her life in that moment depended on him and his ability to get her help in time.

The irony of that was not missed by him.

When he arrived at the medical wing Madam Poulin took one look at what Tom had with him and sprung into action, clucking her tongue and mumbling to herself in French as she lowered the girl on a bed. Her aged face looked ten times older as she examined the girl now lying against the stark white sheets which were quickly stained red.

"Mr Riddle, I'm going to need your help,"the matron ordered sharply as she turned her gaze to the young man standing like a shadow in the doorway.

He cocked his head to the side, his face the perfect combination of worried and serious. "How can I help?"

"We need to warm this girl up and stop the bleeding but I'm only one pair of hands. If we wait too long she's going to die. We don't have enough time to get her to the hospital. I just need you to cast a warming spell on her, slowly at first. If it's too hot we'll lose her."

Mentally Tom sighed, displeased that once again he was being pulled down the path of righteousness. He always hated those types. He didn't even think to do that before he brought her in the castle, but once again, he was hardly the type to play savior.

Only the _weak_ surrender to Death.

"Of course," he said evenly as he stepped further into the room, unable to fake kindness or concern at the moment. He was going to have to settle for serious.

Madam Poulin wasted no time in removing the girls torn wet dress, not at all caring that it was highly inappropriate for him to be in the same room with a half-naked female. That proved just how close the girl was to death's embrace. Tom's mouth formed a tight line.

With a flick of his wand he cast the warming spell, starting as low as he could and watching for any negative signs before warming her up further. If one didn't have enough control over their magic then they could toast someone from the inside out; Tom of course didn't suffer from such lack of control.

He made sure of that early on.

Madam Poulin was working on the girl's wound on her exposed back, having laid her down on her stomach so the injury wouldn't be aggravated.

The wound was obviously laced with dark magic, a thick black tar seeping from the exposed flesh along with an alarming amount of blood. She was going to need to take day's worth of blood replenishing potions.

If she survived.

"You poor child," the matron murmured as she slathered a dark green paste onto the girl's back. Now that Tom was looking (he averted his eyes elsewhere, disinterested in what the matron was doing) he could see angry purple scars littering the girls creamy skin on her back, some long gashes and some small. They looked like they were poorly cared for, judging by the color of them.

Now she was going to have one more going from her right shoulder down to her left hip bone.

It was then that the doors burst open, Dippet and Dumbledore striding through them fifteen minutes too late to matter.

Typical.

He remained quiet and instead stayed focused on his task, taking note that the girl's lips were a little more pink than they were before, as were her cheeks.

He warmed her as much as he could. The rest was up to her.

"Tom, my boy, you did a heroic thing! This poor girl is obviously a refugee running from the war," Dippet said, his tone not nearly as caring or ecstatic as his words.

"Thank you, sir. Is there anything else I can do?" Tom's concern was laced like poison in his words. The Headmaster didn't notice, as usual.

"I believe we can take it from here, Tom," Dumbledore said before anyone else could respond.

He knew by now that no word of praise would ever leave the older man's lips. Not when concerning Tom Riddle.

Without another word he turned on his heel and headed towards the door, only turning around to get one last glimpse of the odd girl who showed up out of nowhere on the brink of death.

In those last few seconds he noticed many things, such as the impatient tapping of Dippet's foot and the soft cursing of the matron as she tried to stop the bleeding from the stubborn wound. He noticed that the girl's breathing was a bit more even, her delicate face more relaxed and her lips parted slightly.

He also noticed the look on Dumbledore's face, the stricken eyes, the furrowed brow; he looked as if his worst nightmare had fallen from the sky.

And she landed right in Tom Riddles lap, metaphorically of course.

Interesting night indeed.

Perhaps he was going to have to keep a close eye on the strange girl for now. He'll make sure to bring it up to his Knights in their next meeting in a few days. His intuitions were never wrong and he could tell this girl was of _some_ importance, though how much was unclear.

It was no coincidence that she showed up and it was he, Tom, that found her. It was only a matter of time before the reason became known to him. For now, he would sit back and watch as the mystery unveiled itself.

He was a patient man when it came to his goals or something that he wanted. Every step he made that year would have to be under the radar and made with deadly precision, as to not draw anymore unwanted attention, namely Dumbledore.

Soon Lord Voldemort will show himself and shape the world for the better and he won't have to put on this painful facade anymore.

However, in order to continue his plans he will have to keep being Tom Riddle, the dutiful student and friend to all...

For now.

He looked forward to the day he could show those around him just what he _truly_ was thinking behind every well placed smile.

He couldn't wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those of you who put this story under favorites and are following the story. Leave a review with your thoughts! We have more more Tom action in this one, doing what he does best.**

 **Why are people so hesitant to read if there is an OC character? Personally, I like them if executed right. Oh well! To those of you who are giving this story a shot you won't be disappointed!**

 **Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter One: Word Games**

She was floating in an endless sea of black, completely numb and mind blank as to how she had gotten to this land of nothingness in the first place.

Oh well, the why really didn't matter. Here there was no pain, no thoughts, no desire; she was just a floating...whatever. She was happy to stay here in the quiet, away from her own thoughts and reality. It was peaceful being a part of nothing.

That was until _something_ painfully grabbed her and pulled her down, so harsh that she was paralyzed by the pain. Air tried to reach her lungs but every gasp hurt; her throat raw like she was swallowing razors.

Why did she hurt so much? Was she caught outside her room after hours again? Did she not manage to block a deadly dark curse in time? What did she...

Her eyes flickered open, the dim lighting causing her to squint in pain as it threatened to burn her sensitive eyes right out of her pounding skull. Her eyes was alarmingly blurry, but luckily after blinking rapidly a few times her vision managed to clear.

For a moment she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, her mind recounting the events that lead her to...wherever she was.

She had succeeded in escaping using her ring as a portkey. If all was done correctly it should have landed her as far away from _him_ as possible. She had chosen random coordinates that she thought would be too far away for him to find her. Ever hopefully.

But where was _here_ exactly?

"I'm surprised to see you up so soon. Your wounds were rather severe. We seem to have you stabilized however, so no need to move too fast or panic."

She snapped her head to the left, eyes showing her alarm as she made contact with an unfamiliar and yet oddly familiar crystal blue pair. They seemed to regard her in the same way but maintained a slight melancholy look despite the chipper quality of their smile.

It was an older wizard with a long and crooked nose and auburn hair that appeared to be graying. It was the same with his semi long beard though it seemed to have more gray than anything else. He had deep smile crinkles around his eyes, giving him a kind, grandfatherly appearance. She imagined that it put most at ease.

It did the opposite for her.

Despite the kindness he was displaying there was something about how he was looking at her that wasn't quite right. It was as if he was seeing someone or something else, not actually her. He was looking _through_ her and at whatever she was reminding him of.

"Who," she tried to say but her voice broke, the hoarse whisper not able to carry out the rest of her sentence.

The scrutiny eased just a tad as he sat down in the chair next to her, his garnet and fuchsia robes clashing terribly and yet suiting the wizard just fine.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and also the Transfiguration teacher. Somehow you bypassed Hogwarts wards and landed yourself in our courtyard where you were found by our Head Boy and brought here for treatment."

The scrutinizing look was back in his eyes again as she stared at him wide-eyed. How on earth had she ended up at _Hogwarts_ of all places?

And this man; this man sitting in front of her; this eccentric judging man was _the_ Albus Dumbledore? She had read about him of course, but there were always whispers about the powerful wizard in the compound though if _he_ ever overheard it was severe torture for days.

Dumbledore was taboo where she grew up. Something about it tickled her brain though she couldn't quite grasp the memory.

Regardless she knew she couldn't trust him, even if he may be powerful enough to take her father down.

The older wizard tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as he saw the mistrust in her unblinking stare. She wasn't trying to hide it. She also saw pity. She wasn't trying to hide her dislike for that either. She wasn't some wounded bird. She had fought for her freedom regardless of the risks.

She narrowed her gaze but kept silent, unsure if she would be able to get out that many words anyway. Dumbledore sighed and seemed to shrink, appearing like the old man he was for a moment before his kindness was back on display.

"May I have your name, Miss...?"

She thought it over for a moment, wondering if it was best to pretend to not know and fake memory loss or give him a fake one. If Grindelwald does come looking for her she didn't want him to get any leads on her whereabouts.

" Robins," she managed to choke out, deciding it couldn't hurt to use her first name if the last name isn't known, "Acantha Robins."

Dumbledore smiled. "And how did you come to be here?"

She frowned, her confusion genuine though her answer was only a half-truth. "I don't know."

She didn't know how she got to Hogwarts and through the wards so it wasn't really a _lie_. Not that she would care either way. She had no loyalty to this man. She doubted he was the one who had healed her so for now she wasn't telling him a thing.

"I see," he murmured as he finally took his eyes off her, allowing her to take a proper breath without him watching her every move. "We'll test the wards and see if we can track a location. Are you fleeing from the war?"

"Yes," she answered lowly, her voice still sounding like it was full of gravel.

"Hmm," he hummed, still not looking at her. "I'm truly sorry for whatever horrors you have had to face in response. We have had a few refugee's in the past so the students won't think it too far fetched."

And as he turned back to meet her watchful gaze she could tell that he sincerely _was_ apologetic, but as to why she didn't understand. The only person to blame as far as she was concerned was Grindelwald himself and no one else.

It's not like Dumbledore had a hand in her fathers actions and reactions. He didn't make Grindelwald a hateful, power obsessed monster.

"Students?" she questioned after a beat of silence.

At this he smiled, his white teeth showing his smile so wide. He looked as if he was about to give her the best present in the world.

Needless to say that made her quite nervous.

"Headmaster Dippet and I would like for you to continue your schooling here. May I have your age?"

Acantha blinked, and then blinked again. "Seventeen."

If possible his smile widened even more, joy radiating from him in waves. His eyes sparkled and for the first time since their conversation (more like interrogation) when he looked at her he wasn't seeing someone else.

He was seeing a young teenage girl in need of a place to stay and learn, in a world full of war and cruelty.

She was exhausted, sore, nauseous and just plain miserable, but for his efforts she gifted him with a tiny tight lipped smile. For whatever reason this caused him to light up like she just gave him the best gift she could offer.

He was certainly a peculiar man.

"Oh! Albus, why didn't you tell me she was up already? I didn't expect her to come to until the next day or so!"

They both turned towards an ancient looking woman who was a little on the plump side and had curly silver hair pinned to the top of her head under a small white cap. She appeared to be very stern but was looking over Acantha with such genuine concern all at the same time.

Dumbledore she wasn't sure about but she already liked this woman. She wore her heart on her sleeve, as the saying goes. No fabrication, no manipulation; what you see is what you get. It was truly a rare thing for someone to have.

"I apologize Madam Poulin, I couldn't wait to inform Miss Robins that she will be continuing her education here at Hogwarts and I'm afraid the conversation got away from me."

With a roll of her eyes the matron shooed Dumbledore away which Acantha was grateful for. She was starting to become a little overwhelmed by how things were transpiring. In all honesty this was the best possible thing that could have happened.

Grindelwald could never reach her as long as she remained in the castle walls. That gave her time to plan her next move and hopefully the muggle war will be done by that time. Perhaps she could flee to America.

"Are you in pain dear?"

Acantha jumped, startled by the second person in the room. She had completely forgotten about Madam Poulin who was still looking at her in worry.

Acantha offered the older woman a small, but honest smile, "A bit. Mainly tired," she managed to get out.

The matron clucked her tongue and nodded before disappearing into the back and coming out a few seconds later with a couple of vials.

"Now that you're awake it will be easier to give you these. This is a blood replenishing potion, this one is for pain, and I also have one to help mend the fractured and broken bones you have throughout your body. After these I'll give you one to help you fall into a dreamless sleep."

Acantha's brows comically rose into her hairline.

She must have landed roughly when the portkey dropped her off which was not surprising since she wasn't conscious. She let out a small unladylike snort but luckily the matron didn't bother to comment though she did give her a small glance.

After taking the awful potions Acantha settled back into her bed, her eyes flickering shut just as the door opened and light footsteps entered the room.

"Oh, Tom! Back again so soon?" she heard the matron say affectionately right before she surrendered to a much needed sleep.

~W~W~W~

The next week went much the same way, Acantha waking up only long enough to take potions, eat soup, and fall back asleep. She didn't see anyone else other than Madam Poulin who had placed Acantha to the side of the room, a sheet around her for privacy.

The younger witch was grateful for this, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, _especially_ Dumbledore.

All her broken bones were mended and the damage caused by hypothermia was gone. She still had some light bruising on her ribs and left leg, but she could walk no problem as long as she was careful with her steps.

Her back however was a different story.

The wound kept getting infected and often pulsed in pain with every breath she took. For now Madam Poulin managed to get rid of the infection but the pain was still there, shooting through her entire back with the slightest of movements. Acantha had yet to look at it or ask about how it looked though the matron always sighed sadly when changing the bandages and adding more healing paste.

She knew enough about dark curses to know it was ugly and being stubborn.

It was another week later on an early Friday morning that Dumbledore came to see her again, but this time with a shorter, plumper man beside him.

Acantha was doing as Madam Poulin instructed and walking around the medical ward to help blood flow and also regain strength in her legs. The long cotton dress she was wearing was white in color while her feet were bare, her long snowy hair pulled back into a braid; needless to say she felt uncomfortable standing in front of the two male wizards.

She was taught to never be under-dressed in the company of others and that appearance made a difference in how others perceived you. She found that to be unfortunately true as the shorter wizard looked at her like she was a poor defenseless little girl.

She supposed that was okay for him to think if it meant he paid her no mind.

"Miss Robins, I'm happy to see you are feeling better," Dumbledore said with a smile she didn't return. "This here is our Headmaster Dippet."

Acantha nodded towards the unknown wizard. "Nice to meet you Headmaster," she said politely, but even to her she sounded robotic.

"Albus tells me that you have agreed to finish the year with us as a seventh year student. The school board has agreed to fund for your books and robes and a charity for war refugees has generously donated money for personal use. Since you're a legal adult you can be in charge of your own funds, but please be mindful that when the money is gone there will be no more."

Acantha blinked in surprise as the elderly wizard handed her an envelope, his muddy eyes kind though he sounded as if he were bored out of his mind. He was balding, the hair he had whiter than Acantha's. She wondered just how old he was.

"Miss Robins, we have already taken the liberty to acquiring your books and robes for you as Madam Poulin disagreed to let you stray too far away from the medical wing," Dumbledore added with a amused twinkle in his eye when it became apparent that the Headmaster was done speaking for the moment. "Tonight we would like for you to join the school for dinner and get you sorted into your house and then you will start classes on Monday."

The knowledge that Acantha had of Hogwarts was minimal, but she did remember something about four different houses you can be sorted into depending on your strongest qualities. She didn't know if she was ready to leave the safety of her little corner of the medical wing just yet, but she refused to hide away like some coward.

The sooner she got it done with the better.

"Okay," she agreed after a moment of silence.

After taking a few more potions, getting scolded by Madam Poulin for agreeing to go to dinner tonight, and a long dreamless nap, it was time for Acantha to put on her uniform and go face the school.

The matron helped her get ready, her touch motherly as the younger witch struggled to lift her arms above her head. She put on the white collard shirt and dark gray vest, Madam Poulin slapping away Acantha's hand when she tried to help with the solid black tie which she was told would change when she was sorted.

The charcoal gray skirt reached right above her knees, causing the elderly matron to mumble her discontentment in french while the younger witch fought to hold back an amused smile. The matron noticed and Acantha's hand was affectionately popped once more.

The black tights underneath however covered any bare skin she would have shown which calmed the woman down a bit. The shoes were plain black and close toed with a decent sized heel which caused Acantha to wobble for a moment when she put them on before getting her balance.

She was used to heels but was feeling a tad dizzy and was almost completely out of energy. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. You would never be able to tell it by looking at her. Her back was straight, her face calm, but inside she was a nervous wreck and felt as if she was going to faint at any moment.

No one else needed to know that however.

"Come on dear, I'll escort you," Madam Poulin coaxed gently, the shorter woman steering Acantha by the elbow.

The hallways were dimly lit, causing shadows on the walls. Acantha pushed down her anxiety and instead listened to the sound of their steps as she looked straight ahead. There were pictures on the wall but she didn't turn her head to examine them.

For a moment it felt as if she was back in the forest with the shadowed trees reaching out for her. It took everything she had to not go into a full blown sprint out of the castle. If it weren't for Madam Poulin by her side she may have.

She was feeling claustrophobic.

After what seemed like hours of marching towards her own death they finally arrived in front of two large double doors the color of gold. She could hear loud chatter coming from inside, causing her heart to pound harshly in her chest.

"You'll be fine dear. Just breathe," she heard Madam Poulin say gently. "Wait here until you're called," she said before opening one of the doors just enough to slip through.

Acantha closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth. This was just a temporary arrangement until she can get back on her own two feet. What these people thought of her didn't matter. She was not here to play teenager and have friends. She was here on her quest to freedom.

That managed to calm her down slightly, but only slightly.

"We have a new student joining us this year. She will be joining the seventh years and we expect you to treat her with the same respect as your fellow classmates. Students, please welcome Acantha Robins!"

She nodded to herself, putting aside her anxiousness, before pushing open the door and entering the room. It was a larger room than she had expected with more people than she was prepared for, but she kept her eyes forward as she made her way towards Dumbledore who was standing beside a black stool.

The claps were small and polite, but she could hear whispers filter through the hall the further she stepped into the room.

"Do you think she's running from Grindelwald?" she heard someone whisper rather loudly.

Almost instantly her eyes hardened, her gaze darkening ever so slightly as her steps quickened. The sooner she did this the sooner she can leave.

"Hello again Miss Robins. Please have a seat," Dumbledore said calmly as he motioned towards the chair.

She hesitated for only a moment before seating herself as gracefully and carefully as possible so to not aggravate her back. Facing the room she found thousands of pairs of eyes on her, all of them dissecting her just the same despite the differences in how it was done.

Some were loudly talking and pointing, Gryffindor's. Some were quietly whispering and watching her curiously, Ravenclaws. Some were staring at her with sympathy and encouraging smiles, Hufflepuff's.

And the Slytherin's were all turned in their seats not saying a word, not clapping; just staring at her with their own little expressions. Some were glaring, some looked curious, some looked bored; most looked calculating.

Something was suddenly placed on her head, the fabric sliding down in front of her eyes and blocking her view of room. A relieved sigh left her lips as she closed her eyes, feeling as if she was ripped out of reality and placed into some alternate universe.

When she broke away from her personal prison she really had no idea just how different the outside world was and how much she lacked in social skills.

 _ **Robins? I understand the name change child but Robins is a bit plain for you, don't you think?**_

The only thing that stopped Acantha from jumping was her pride and the fact that her back seemed to protest every little move she made. A magical hat that had access to your inner most thoughts? She wished she had been warned that way she could have taken her chances some place else..

 _How do you know who I am,_ she thought, her inner voice a bit more snappy than she would have allowed were she talking out loud.

The hat chuckled. _**I know everything there is to know once I am placed on top of your head child. Don't worry, I was enchanted to never reveal the things I see. After all, I am just a hat.**_

Acantha sighed. _Okay let's get this over with._

 ** _Oh, I already know the perfect house for you. You are brave, but not impulsive. Loyal but not blind. Intelligent but full of aspiration and goals. You are cunning enough to get what you want and ambitious enough to see it through..._**

 _ **Yes, I see great things for you if I were to put you in this house though it won't be easy.**_

 _ **The only right option for you is,**_

"SLYTHERIN!"

The light stung her eyes as the hat was removed, revealing the room of students still staring rather blatantly at her. There was some polite clapping, mainly from what was to be her new house, but she was being stared at as if they never saw another person before.

"Thank you sir," she said softly, nodding towards Dumbledore without meeting his eye before turning on her heel and making her way towards the Slytherin table.

It is said that Slytherin house is full of pureblood's who feel that muggle's and muggleborn's are lower class and in some cases should even be massacred. Didn't she just leave that type of hate and prejudice behind her? Why would the hat, after looking inside her head, think _this_ was where she will be best suited?

The self-assurance she was displaying as she neared the table was not felt all the way through, but she couldn't let them know that. She spent her whole life around people with _their_ beliefs and the moment a weakness was found they will poke at it.

She won't give them any reason to look in her direction.

A brow rose when everyone on one side of the bench shifted as one, showing just one spot for her to sit in the center of the table. Slowly she approached, her eyes examining the seat suspiciously before she stiffly sat down.

On her right was a boy with hair as pale as hers tied back into a low ponytail. He kept his eyes trained forward though, not giving her a glance. On her left was another boy with mahogany brown hair, he however was looking right at her, his hazel eyes giving no indication as to what he was thinking.

Finally she turned her attention forward and froze, eyes so dark a gray that they almost looked black filling her vision. It was as if the very breath in her lungs was snatched out violently as she fell further into the coldest and yet most bewitching pair of eyes she had ever seen.

They were the eyes of someone with secrets, knowledge, power and confidence, and they were giving her the same kind of scrutiny she was giving them.

The eyes belong to a boy with pale white skin and soft black hair which curled slightly and was pushed to the side. His cheek bones were well defined, almost sharp, and even sitting down she could tell he was tall. He sat almost just as stiffly as she was sitting though he had his long fingered hands clasped together on the table.

He might as well of been a painting in gray scale, so beautifully done...

"Welcome to Slytherin house, my name is Tom Riddle, Hogwarts Head Boy."

Acantha shivered slightly, his voice while a deep tenor, was so velvety smooth and demanding that she couldn't ignore him even if she wanted to.

She knew right then that he was dangerous and she would be better off as far away from him as possible.

"Pleasure," she replied after a moment of silence, her tone polite and yet clipped.

She looked away from his burning gaze as food appeared on the table, whatever speech Dippet was droning on with finally done. The hall was filled with pleasant chatter, even the more refined Slytherin's conversing among themselves.

Acantha kept to herself, only eating a bit of fruit and some soup so to not upset her stomach. If she ate anything too heavy the potions might cause her to vomit it back up, Madam Poulin's own words. She really didn't want to test her luck.

She did her best to not be too tense, the fact that she was sitting much too closely to people filling her with discomfort and unease. Physical interaction was not something she was accustomed to. She mostly ate meals alone in between studies.

This was a very uncomfortable first.

"Acantha Robins, was it?"

She looked up from her soup, finding Riddles eyes still burning through her like she was something interesting for him to dissect. She assumed he was curious about the war and why she had to flee, but then a memory hit her.

Her very first conversation with Dumbledore.

 _Somehow you bypassed Hogwarts wards and landed yourself in our courtyard where you were found by our Head Boy and brought here for treatment._

If this Tom Riddle was the Head Boy than that would mean _he_ was the one who found her. No wonder he was examining her so closely, like if he even blinked he would miss something important.

"Yes," she said simply, briefly noticing that it looked like he hadn't even touched his plate of food.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his upper lids lowering and his long lashes making his eyes appear completely black. "Such a simple last name. I don't believe it suits you. Not the way Acantha does."

This time she didn't allow herself to shiver, her name coming from his lips somehow sounding like an exotic flower.

He was testing her, seeing how much she knew and if she was lying about her name. He was smart, manipulative, and he had a goal he was hoping to reach with this small conversation. She couldn't help but wonder just what he was after.

"Names are hardly symbolic to a person," she replied evenly. "Your name for example is plain, simple, and disarming."

She watched him closely as he brought a silver goblet to his lips which quirked up ever so slightly at her words and their implications.

"How are your wounds? Madam Poulin wouldn't tell me much."

Acantha thought over her response carefully, taking notice of the smooth conversation change. Was he perhaps trying to see if she knew he was the reason she was alive, or was he asking out of concern?

Somehow she suspected the latter to _never_ be an option.

"Healed for the most part," she started, "I was informed that it was you who found me, yes?"

The intensity of his eyes increased as he leaned forward slightly on the table, still a distance away but much too close for comfort.

"That is correct."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hand twitching ever so slightly. She could tell he noticed by the small flicker of his eyes. She had a feeling that he noticed just about everything.

"Well," she said slowly, hating the soft, hesitant, tone of her voice. "It appears that I...am in your debt."

It was a pureblood custom, an _old_ pureblood custom that wasn't much practiced now. Of course she was taught all the old ways of a _proper_ pureblood.

Those who could hear their conversation turned towards Acantha in curiosity, looking at her with more consideration than before. She realized much too late that she had walked right into Riddles hands.

A smile twitched across his face, his head tilting as he looked at her through his lashes. He looked sinful, nefarious; all covered up by his boyish looks and disarming ways.

"It appears you do," he all but whispered, voice soft and low but somehow more powerful than before.

Her heart thundered in her chest, her veins running cold with ice. He knew the old customs and he counted on her knowing them to despite her unknown last name. She assumed her house mates would think her to be some half-blood, nothing special and worth noticing.

But Tom Riddle _knew_ her to be something more, and for whatever reason he wanted her to know he did without being outwardly told.

So much for going unnoticed.


	3. Chapter 3

**UnchartedWillows:** Thank you for your comment! I'm trying to make the main character as realistic as possible with what she's had to go through while at the same time keeping her character very logical and composed (which is going to end up causing some issues for her). Riddle on the other hand isn't done right unless he is a "riddle" (yes, I just dropped a pun). He tricked the whole school into thinking things that made no sense so naturally getting a solid read on him is going to be difficult! This will be a slow paced romance and full of a lot of tension and miss read intentions.  
I hope you continue to enjoy the story and let me know of your thoughts!

 **Guest:** I'm so happy that you like the plot! I hope you continue enjoying this little world I created and continue letting me know your thoughts. Thank you for reviewing=D

* * *

 ** _This chapter is a monster.  
_** ** _Acantha is going to go through character development (perhaps for the better or for the worst). This chapter will show a more broken down version as she struggles past the PTSD and paranoia. Our Dark Lord is hardly good for her mental health..._**

* * *

Chapter Two: First Day of Classes

 _December 17th 1944, Sunday  
_

 _The girl is quite an enigma._

 _The way she held herself as she strolled through the Great Hall doors was proper and self-assured, yet her hands were twitching the whole time while her body remained stiff as a statue. She didn't hold herself like she was wounded which I knew her to still be._

 _She was proud, but unlike most of the members of my house didn't walk with her nose in the air._

 _It was a humble type of proud._

 _The wound on her back is going to take months before it heals right, and that is without considering how many times it will get infected and reopen up. She was also anxious, on the edge of a borderline panic-attack like she had never been around so many people at once._

 _It was small things such as twitching muscles and labored breaths, but I noticed._

 _She moved with delicate strides, a small bounce in her step like she was ready to flee at any moment if the wrong move was made. She didn't make eye contact with anyone in the room, a crack in her well placed mask of confidence. She was quiet, remote, and kept an eye on her surroundings like she was expecting an attack._

 _Of course, if she does have a tie to Grindelwald like I suspect than her behavior is understandable. She has an accent, though faint, which signifies a diversity in other languages. I am positive the story of her fleeing from the current Dark Lord is true._

 _It matches up without question._

 _But with the state she showed up in she had to fight in order to get to safety and that is quite...odd. I hadn't heard of any recent raids or current actions from Grindelwald. Things have been unnaturally still since her appearance. Everyone else seems okay to not question it and take it at face value without further investigation, but I on the other hand can't help but be curious. Her appearance on school grounds was no accident._

 _She is not a mudblood judging by her features. She holds herself with too much poise and self respect to come from such filth._

 _I was considering her being a halfblood, but she knows pureblood traditions that were long forgotten by the wizarding world. Not even the Malfoy's followed all the old ways or even knew all of them, and they are one of the oldest pureblood family's left._

 _Pureblood is just a fancy word for inbred imbeciles now-a-days with how many mate with **disgusting** muggles. I can't believe how far the magical community has fallen, celebrating Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving; muggle holidays. _

_I blame Dumbledore for that._

 _Speaking of Dumbledore, his reaction to the girl getting put in Slytherin was quite intriguing. Had the girl turned around to look she would have found a rather shrewd expression on the old coots face. He almost looked disappointed._

 _I thought that look was reserved for me, and me only since it's the only time I ever see it._

 _His dislike for the noble house of Slytherin is no well kept secret nor is his dislike for me._

 _She seems to not know him judging by her lack of interactions with him, so why he looked at her with a combination of recognition, longing, and even a bit of disfavor is a telling sign of a secret._

 _A dark, long, complicated secret._

 _He knows something he's not sharing and that is why no one is putting any real effort in figuring out how she arrived and who she really is._

 _She is quite peculiar_

 _Her eyes are the same color as the killing curse._

 _Green and yet so much more as they appear to nearly glow against the white of her skin. Everything about her seemed illuminated like there was an eternal light ready to burst out of her magical core._

 _I still can't tell if it's a trick of the light or if she is truly more than she appears in a whole other different way than I suspect._

 _Her eyes are the **exact** color of the killing curse, a curse I learned quite well during my summer break. I found myself not wanting to look away. They were bright, full of internal light and intelligence. _

_Yet her eyes didn't tell me a thing._

 _They were completely void, bored almost, and she didn't look away when her gaze met mine. She didn't back down, didn't waver in her stare. Most couldn't look me in the eye for more than ten seconds._

 _Most were weak characters, easily manipulated and intimidated. She is used to being around intimidating people. She knew to look away first without reason was a sign of weakness; a way of giving another person dominance._

 _She didn't even so much as blink until dinner appeared and the world pressed play again._

 _She seemed to be one contradiction after another because while her gaze was steady her body was twitchy and chest heaving too fast. I seem to make her uncomfortable. I was nothing but pleasant, careful with my words and making sure I was wearing the smile that put others at ease._

 _Her voice is soft and light. It doesn't match the weight of her stare._

 _She's still in the hospital wing but according to Professor Slughorn will be starting classes tomorrow._

 _I am most curious to see how she performs, more importantly in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Something tells me shes far from innocent._

 _ **TMR**_

 _December 18th 1944, Monday_

Breathe in, breathe out; don't faint, don't trip; breathe in.

It took her a few moments of panic before she realized she forgot to breathe out. There, that was better...

Breathe in, breathe out...

Today was Monday, the day she was going to have to act like a regular teenage girl while being cooped up in a room with strangers. Madam Poulin took pity on her and allowed her to spend the weekend in her little corner of the hospital wing ( her back had improved greatly, she was happy to hear), but tonight she was going to have to stay in the Slytherin dorm.

Trapped in _another_ room with more people she didn't know.

She hated walls. They were just ways to confine her. It was as if they were closing in on her. Hogwarts corridors were much too narrow and didn't have enough windows, though she suspected that was her own cruel mind playing tricks on her...

Merlin, how was she going to do this?

Breathe in, breathe out; she was free. These were not confining walls meant to keep her in. They were walls to keep danger out. She was safe from crazed Dark Lords here. Her anxiety was unwarranted.

And yet the darkness whispered, the walls moving closer, the ceiling sinking lower...

Sometimes she just couldn't breathe.

Like now.

She placed a hand against the stone wall, closing her eyes and thanking Merlin that no one was up at this time in the morning. To be seen showing this amount of helplessness was unthinkable and the last thing she needed was people pitying her or asking questions.

She needed fresh air, needed to go outside, needed to remind herself that she had beaten _him_ and gotten out from under his thumb.

With her chest heaving much too fast she looked both ways down the dimly lit hallway, realizing that she didn't know where she was going. She was trying to get to the Great Hall for breakfast before it got crowded. She could have sworn it was left, right, right, and then forward from there.

Then again she didn't pay as close attention as she should have.

She rested her back against the wall, wrapping the black robe around her as if to comfort herself. This was it. She had gone mad. Perhaps it was genetic...

Breathe in...

Why was she only taking tiny little gasps, her heart slamming harshly against her chest? Her windpipes felt like they were being crushed and her vision was blackening at the edges. Was she seriously going to faint, here in the hallways where anyone can find her?

Breathe out...

Her eyes snapped open as gentle hands cupped her face, the comforting scent of pine washing over her. It was a soothing smell.

Her breathing stopped all together as her wide eyes met concerned gray, so bright in color they almost looked silver. There was no pity in the gaze, but instead worry for her self being.

She can't remember anyone other than Madam Poulin looking at her like that.

It was a boy about her age. He had curly black hair which stopped right above his shoulders and sharp facial features. He was quite handsome in a boyish way, his eyes expressive and showing nothing but kindness.

His gaze wasn't anything like Riddles, a sea of darkness that threatened to pull her in and drown her. They were like gazing at the moon light bathing the ocean waters.

He was also a Slytherin, she realized.

"Let's get you outside for some fresh air. It's still plenty early," he said softly, his voice much deeper and huskier than she would have expected.

Watching her carefully he wrapped his arms around her still gasping, smaller frame and pulled her off the floor. She didn't recall sliding down the wall.

Half-supporting her they headed the other way down the hall, going back in the direction she had come from; so that was what she did wrong...

Together they made it down the halls without anyone noticing them which Acantha was grateful for. All the while her wheezing breaths continued, black swarming her vision like little bugs. The boy whispered a password to a portrait of a man with a black sheep though Acantha couldn't hear over the thundering of her own heart.

The portrait swung open, revealing nothing but darkness.

"Close your eyes," the boy coaxed.

Acantha hesitated.

"I won't hurt you," he murmured, a small smile tilting up half his face.

She closed her eyes against her better judgment.

It was only a few more moments before fresh crisp air hit her face, orange light hitting behind her eyelids. She opened her eyes, a full breath of fresh air entering her lungs. With a brightness in her gaze that wasn't there before she examined the snow covered grounds in wonder.

It was beautiful in the morning light, the snow glistening like tiny little twinkling diamonds.

In the far distance she could see a lush forest though a dark air seemed to hover over it. A little closer there was a lake which was appeared to be protected by magic so it didn't freeze. _This_ was freedom. _This_ was what it tasted like.

A brilliant though small smile lit up her face as she stepped further outside, fresh air washing away all her anxiety and self doubt. So many years of being trapped and controlled has most certainly left its mark, she should have known she would have some kind of short term (hopefully) effects. She didn't realize she was so... _damaged_.

Her smile dampened, eyes dimming.

She had dreams of seeing the ocean, the mountains; she wanted to sleep under the stars. She was tired of staring at walls and being told what to do. She wanted to _live_. Instead of seeing Hogwarts as a prison she needed to see it as her place of solace; the beginning chapter to her new life as Acantha Robins.

She may not of been as free as she wanted, but she wasn't being held here against her will. She could leave at any moment if she chose.

Her breathing was now calm and regulated. She couldn't believe she had a panic attack in the middle of the hallway.

She hoped to not have anymore. It was atrocious and made her feel _vulnerable_. It made her feel out of control. She needed control more now than ever if she was going to successfully integrate herself among the other students.

She couldn't allow herself to break, to snap; she needed to gain back control over herself. That was the only way...

She spun around as something wet and cold suddenly hit her back, her dark green 12 inch wand in her hand and a curse at the tip of her tongue. She froze, completely stunned as she saw the boy toss a snow ball up in the air once before hurling it right at her chest before she could think.

She blinked like she couldn't believe what she had just seen, her body still in a fighting stance. She imagined that she looked ridiculous.

A smirk quirked up one side of his handsome face, his eyes flashing in mischief.

She blinked again. The boys cocky smirk widened.

She narrowed her eyes, swishing her wand down before she could think any better of it. A small wave of snow flew at the boy like a title-wave. He was average height but wide in build, obviously very muscled and heavy. He stumbled back a step, almost knocked over by the sheer force of her snowy attack.

His eyes were wide, his mouth open like a gaping fish as he stared at her like he didn't really expect her to retort.

A tiny snort left her lips before she could stop it, followed by a small choked chuckle.

He was dripping wet, his curly hair straight from the weight and his eyebrows frosted white from the snow. He looked like a disgruntled cat, his eyes narrowed and mouth in a grumpy frown once he realized what she had done.

She couldn't hold it in anymore, a loud delicate laugh rippling through the air in a sound only caused by pure childish delight. She couldn't recall ever making that sound before. Was it really coming from her?

Normally she would be worried about how others would perceive her if they didn't see her acting anything but ladylike and mature. At the moment though she didn't care, didn't want to care.

Her body was buzzing pleasantly, a feeling that was very much foreign to her.

This moment in time with this boy she didn't know was the first time she remembered feeling any amount of genuine excitement.

"I'd run if I were you," he taunted, his tone playful as he took out his wand.

Acantha's eyes widened as she hesitated for only a moment.

He rose a dark brow.

She took off running.

Their laughter was all that could be heard as they played in the snow like children, not caring about how cold it was and how wet they were getting. They gave up on their wands after a while and instead began scooping up actual snow balls, trying to hit each other in the face regardless of the fact that snow was not nearly as soft as Acantha imagined it would be.

She had been on the receiving end of awful pain, but the stinging and burning from the snow she didn't mind. It made her feel alive. It made her feel clean.

Once they were gasping, out of breath, and the Sun had nearly risen they called a silent truths, both smiling from ear to ear and laughing at the state of each other.

They were both laid on their backs in the snow in companionable silence, Acantha's arms outstretched above her head as she allowed the cold to settle over her like a blanket. She felt light, airy; she imagined that this was what happiness felt like. She certainly didn't know what other word to use.

Her dreadful past was far in the distance, for once not at the front of her ever so chaotic mind.

"I'm Alphard Black by the way."

Acantha smiled and closed her eyes, a shaky breath racking her body as a realization hit her.

She just made her first friend.

Neither of them noticed the figure sitting under the tree by the lake, watching them from the distance.

~W~W~W~

By the time they managed to dry each other with their wands and make it to the Great Hall the room was already packed. Alphard had looped his arm through her's as he escorted her to the Slytherin table like a perfect gentleman, and while she tensed at first she found his touch more comforting than anything else.

So she didn't remove her arm from his and even allowed him to seat her beside him at the far end of the table.

He didn't seem to mind the attention that was currently on them as he loaded his plate with bacon and buttered his toast. He flashed her his teeth in a crooked grin, his eyes amused as people blatantly stared and whispered Merlin knew what to each other.

After that she decided to take a page from his own book and ignore those around them as she buttered her own piece of toast. With Alphard by her side she didn't mind the crowded room nearly as much. She did notice however that Riddle was not at the table.

The Slytherin's seemed more at ease and talkative without him there.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a short, balding, jolly man bounded up behind her after screaming her name from across the hall. Alphard snorted in entertainment before muttering, "That's Slughorn, our head of house and potions teacher. You best hope he doesn't try to collect you."

She didn't have enough time to ask him what he meant by "collect" her. Slughorn was pulling her out of her seat, his hands on her shoulders as he beamed down at her. No amount of self control could stop her from staring at him in complete shock.

"Ah, Miss Robins. You are quite the beauty! The boys will be after you in no time I'm sure," he said much too loudly, causing a small blush to lightly paint her cheeks.

His breath smelled like wine.

She had never felt so mortified in her life...if the whole Great Hall wasn't already staring they most certainly were now. She thought she may have even heard laughing coming from the Gryffindor table. She could definitely hear Alphard's chuckles and he wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Here is your schedule my dear. Albus chose the classes himself. He assured me that you would be able to keep up but if you need any help please feel free to let me know."

He handed her a piece of parchment.

She felt Alphard gently reach up and remove it from her hands so he could look at what classes she was given. It was obvious by the increasing smile that the eccentric, day drunk wizard wasn't done humiliating her just yet.

"Now, you'll need a guide to escort you around the castle and get you familiar with the staircases. It will be hard to remember at first but you'll get the hang of it," he said brightly.

"I'll do it sir," Alphard piped up, his eyes still on the piece of parchment with a raised brow.

She wondered why.

"I can't possibly ask that of you Mr. Black. It would make you late to many of your classes which already seems to be a problem," Slughorn scolded lightly though it was obviously half-hearted.

Alphard looked up from her schedule and beamed. "Than I see no issue," he shrugged.

Acantha fought the urge to snort at her new friends antics. She had a feeling that he didn't take much of anything seriously.

"Nice try Mr Black, but that's what we have a Head Boy for."

Just as fast as it appeared the amusement in her eyes were gone, her face losing color and body stiffening. Slughorn didn't notice.

"Tom, can you come over here for a moment?"

What?

Acantha turned her attention back towards the Slytherin table and found Riddle in the center like he had been there the whole time, his chin propped up on his elbow as he watched the scene with an oddly amused glint in his eye.

She looked away before eye contact was made, instead focusing on the two younger Gryffindor's who were trying to hex each other from opposite sides of the table without getting caught.

It was only a moment more before she felt someone beside her, an imposing figure that made her heart skip a beat in nervousness. She had no idea what it was about him that rose her hackles, but she didn't want to be around him enough to find out.

She could tell by how he assesses her that he was curious. Much too curious.

"Tom my boy, can you please walk Miss Robins to and from her classes for the next few days? We don't want her getting lost," he joked.

Acantha didn't laugh.

She was watching as one of the Gryffindor boys hit the other with a hex that turned his hair a neon pink.

"Of course Professor. I'll make sure Miss Robin's settles in nicely."

In retaliation the other Gryffindor hit the boy who made his hair pink with a hex that gave him a pig nose.

"Thank you Tom! I know she's in good hands."

Both boys stood up, yelling at each other with their wands raised. It was rather comical.

"Hey! 20 points from Gryffindor each and a weeks worth of detention!" Slughorn suddenly roared as he made his may towards the still arguing boys.

Acantha rose a brow, an amused smirk pulling up a corner of her mouth.

It was then that she felt the side of her face burning and she remembered who was standing beside her, much, much too close.

She turned slightly, only halfway facing him as she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. He was much taller than her, at least by a head. He peered down at her with his eyes, his head still held up high. It gave him an air of superiority despite the kindness in his smile and gaze.

It was a flawless look, one that had her wondering if maybe she had just misjudged him. She _was_ unfortunately suffering from being brought up at the compound where there was a smiling enemy behind every corner. Did so many years of not being able to trust a simple smile and kind eyes make her paranoid, unable to trust anyone she meets?

Maybe he was just innocently curious and had no alternate intentions like she originally thought...

His smile twitched into a barely there smirk, his eyes taking on a small entertained glint.

She realized too late that she had taken a step back.

She wiped any emotion she may have had on her face clean off, all thoughts about him being genuine going out the window.

"Acantha, Dumbledore gave you nearly every NEWT level class offered and has you doing the Apparition class with the sixth years which is insanity! Should have known you were a genius with how quiet you are."

Acantha turned away from the strange staring contest taking place with an oddly blank expression, not caring what Riddle thought of it, and met her new friends admiring gaze. She frowned as she took the parchment, her body tensing when Riddle stepped closer to her so he could read it over her shoulder.

 _Monday: Double Potions with Ravenclaw  
Advanced Charms with Hufflepuff  
_

 _Tuesday: Double Defense against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor  
Advanced Transfiguration with Hufflepuff  
_

 _Wednesday: Herbology with Ravenclaw  
Divination -Mixed_

 _Thursday: Ancient Runes Gryffindor  
Arithmancy -Mixed_

 _Friday: Apparition with sixth years_

Approved and signed by,

 _ **Albus Dumbledore,  
Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry **_

"Interesting," Riddle murmured, his breath ghosting _innocently_ over the shell of her ear.

Her only outward reaction was a slight hitch in her breathing and the white of her knuckles as she gripped the parchment almost to the point of ripping it in half.

He _thankfully_ moved away, allowing her to breathe as she glanced over the classes again, the intensity in her stare so harsh that if she didn't rip the parchment with her grip it might just burst into flames.

Without Riddle distracting her with his unnecessary close proximity her mind became a whirlwind of questions.

Dumbledore had no clue what her skill level was. He didn't know what she was knowledgeable of and what she never properly learned. He didn't _know_. He _couldn't_ know.

Her eyes zeroed in on Divination's, her brows furrowing together. Why would he give her _that_ class instead of the others offered? They would most surely be more practical unless she was a seer, which she wasn't. What made him choose the classes that he did when he knew not one important thing about her?

And why did he give her so _many_ classes when most seventh year students seemed to only have two to four main courses?

Her eyes glanced over the schedule again like they would reveal their secrets. Unfortunately the only thing she saw was neat cursive and wrinkled parchment.

She turned her head and caught Riddles gaze, his stare completely impassive as he examined her. She wondered what he was thinking to cause such a guarded look. His eyes looked like dark pools, his jaw clenched and head tilted ever so slightly.

She sighed before holding out her parchment for him to take, still weary about the whole situation.

Without saying a word he gently took the offered paper, careful not to make any skin contact, and turned on his heel. Copying his impassive mask she followed, a feeling of trepidation settling over her like a rain cloud she couldn't outrun.

She turned around just as the Great Hall doors were about to shut to find Dumbledore's gaze watching her with almost as much intensity as she was giving the schedule _he_ had chosen for _her_.

It was in that moment that any trust she may have given him in the future shattered.

~W~W~W~

Despite her usually _impeccable_ self control she found herself listening intently to every word out of Riddles mouth as he explained the corridors, the staircases, which floors the classes were on, and the general History of Hogwarts as a whole.

His smooth voice was pleasing to listen to though she blamed her intensiveness on her desire to learn about everything and anything. He also walked with a rather confident stride, the other students subconsciously moving out of his way.

There wasn't one person who didn't smile or greet him as they passed. They didn't even notice her walking one step behind him.

He had a big presence, one that demanded respect.

He was polite and charismatic, the girls swooning at his brief smile and the guys stuck between being jealous and wanting to be his friend.

Acantha knew first hand that amount of charm and allure was hazardous, especially if the intent wasn't pure. Riddle however was nearly impossible to read. Perhaps his name was more fitting than she had first thought.

Riddle indeed.

A grunt left her lips as the wizard in question suddenly stopped, causing her to crash against his back which was much harder than she would have thought. She jumped back immediately, the smell of cinder swarming her senses and making her nearly dizzy.

Her eyes were half-hooded and had she been able to see herself she would have noticed the sudden dilation of her pupils.

 _He smells good_ , her brain thought before she could stop it, the warmth of his body seemingly attaching itself to her despite the contact being brief and separated by clothes.

She didn't like it. Not one bit.

He turned his head slightly, an eyebrow quirked though she thought she may have seen a smirk twitch its way onto his face.

Before she could tell for sure he began walking again, casually pointing out passageways guarded by portraits as if nothing happened. Why he suddenly stopped she would never know, but she doubted it was to make her crash into him, not when he was so careful to avoid touching her in the Great Hall.

She soon pushed the incident far from her mind, deciding that it didn't really matter.

When they walked through the potions doors in the dungeons, Acantha taking a seat on the far right side of the room and Riddle sitting a couple of seats to her left somewhere behind her, she realized that she managed to walk through the crowded halls without one of her... _episodes._

Hopefully that meant she wasn't going to suffer from them anymore. She can't afford to break down now. Perhaps meeting Alphard helped her to differentiate _there_ and Hogwarts.

Only time would tell.

As if he heard her thinking of him Alphard strolled through the doors only a minute away from being late. He flashed her a grin and sauntered his way towards her, carelessly dropping the mess in his arms down on the table before sitting down himself with a graceless plop.

Slughorn then entered the room, his eyes bright and hands rubbing together like a mad scientist as he eyed the room in speculation.

"Here we go again," Alphard muttered before leaning back in his seat, a smirk in place.

"Who can tell me a couple of potions where Asphodel is used?"

Hands shot into the air where the Ravenclaws sat on the other side of the room whereas the Slytherin's seemed to not care enough to bother. Acantha frowned slightly when Slughorn's eyes fell on her, his smile bright and demeanor excited.

"Miss Robins, care to give it a shot?"

Pushing aside her unease at being the center of attention she straightened in her seat and said, " Asphodel, also known as Royal Staff, is used in many potions. The powered root of Asphodel is used in the Draught of the Living Dead and also the Wiggenweld Potion just to name a couple of well known ones."

Slughorn nodded, his gaze getting more thrilled by the second. "What color is the ending result of the Elixir to Euphoria Potion?"

"Yellow, more descriptively "sunshine" yellow as they say."

"What was the name of the witch or wizard who created the Shrinking Potion?"

"That particular potion has been around for so long that it was not documented just who had originally created it though it's intent was to be used on livestock. The potion we use today however was reinvented by Zygmunt Budge after a wizard by the name of Samuel Plunkett, who was persecuted by a Muggle village, poured Shrinking Solution in the village well and terrorized the shrunken villagers by chasing them around in hobnail boots, as the story goes anyway."

From the corner of her eye she could see Alphard watching her, an amused smile on his face.

"What is the most dangerous Love Potion in existence?"

"Amortenia, which is unstable and as been known to cause severely negative effects. It only creates falsified love more on the side of obsession, and in my opinion should be just as illegal as the unforgivable curses due to the fact that it takes away freewill in the worst ways possible."

The room was eerily silent as the students stared at Acantha with wide eyes and raised brows before a round of applause resonated throughout the room, Slughorn's claps sounding more like an approaching thunderstorm threatening to burst her eardrums.

"Very good Miss Robins! 20 points to Slytherin. I look forward to seeing if your knowledge translates to practical work."

And then the class officially started as Slughorn began to explain Golpalott's Third Law.

Acantha nearly shrunk down in her chair, hoping that for the rest of the class Slughorn would ignore her so she didn't draw anymore unwanted attention. She should have pretended to not know the answers. That would have been the smart thing to do but her pride wouldn't allow it.

She could feel the back of her head burning, but she refused to turn around.

After class Alphard led her to the Great Hall for lunch, chuckling to himself when she left Potion's as fast as she could without having to run. He must have sensed her sour mood and remained quiet after that, instead talking to some of his other friends in their house.

She was happy to note that he wasn't talking to anyone from the group Riddle hung around which was as usual, sitting in the center of the table quietly talking among themselves.

Acantha listened in to their Quidditch debate on who was the best seeker, not really understanding what they were talking about since she never had time for sports, but it seemed to calm her down anyway.

Maybe she would have Alphard show her the appeal.

Before Acantha could run away from the Great Hall Riddle was in her way, his "trust me" smile in place and his eyes nothing but friendly and innocent.

"You seem to know quite a bit about Potion's Miss Robins. That was very impressive."

Acantha narrowed her eyes slightly at him, somehow getting the feeling that he was mocking her. Deciding that she didn't have the energy to care rather he was being genuine or not she replied with a simple "Thank you," and walked around the tall wizard as she headed towards the door.

He didn't let her lead for long, instead breezing right by her and walking so fast towards the Charms classroom that she could barely keep up. Annoyance was tugging at her self control mighty hard at this point but she managed to push it down.

They were the first to arrive.

To Acantha's dismay he didn't leave, instead settling into the seat directly behind the one she had chosen. Alphard wasn't in this class with her, instead having the rest of the day to do whatever he wanted.

A middle aged wizard who would have been semi attractive had his face not been stuck in a scowl and his blonde hair not greasy, walked into the room with his dark red cloak trailing behind him.

Alphard told her he was Professor Dolova, and warned her not to get on his bad side.

That seemed to be out of her hands however when he narrowed his eyes at her and proceeded to make her turn vinegar into wine among various other none verbal spells. Eventually he gave up and ignored her for the rest of the class.

She was more than okay with that.

After class Alphard was waiting for her outside the door, a large grin in place until he spotted something over her shoulder.

The most peculiar thing happened.

Alphard's playful face hardened, his eyes narrowed, and his body tensed before he blinked and the expression was gone, a less excited smile in place.

It didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey Acantha, Hello Riddle."

Acantha stopped dead in her tracks in surprise, but before she could turn around warm breath ghosted over her ear, her skin flushing a light pink much to her confusion. Her heart thumped too erratically for what was normal.

She blamed it on not being used to having people in a close proximity. What _else_ could it be?

He made her unsettled, made her weary; that was all.

In the back of her mind she remembered when Alphard touched her. Riddles touch was a whole other thing, but she refused to reflect on it. The why was pointless anyway.

"You're blocking the doorway Miss Robins," he whispered softly.

She shivered and rubbed the goosebumps on her arms, causing him to lightly chuckle in response.

That seemed to bring her back to reality as she quickly walked towards Alphard, keeping her back to Riddle just in case her skin was still flushed.

"See you at dinner Miss Robins, Mr Black," he said lightly before walking off.

Alphard watched him go with a raised brow before turning his attention to her. "Be careful with him Acantha. He's a nice bloke as long as you don't get too close."

She furrowed her eyes but her new friend only smiled in response, wrapping a warm arm around her shoulders and leading her through the halls while telling her about the time he turned Malfoy's hair into garden snakes in their third year.

She couldn't help but to smirk in amusement once she learned it was the blonde haired boy she sat beside the day she was sorted.

Acantha and Alphard walked around Hogwarts, enjoying the quietness of the halls since most were in class or the library. Alphard laughed when she told him about what happened in Charms. He claimed it was because she was put in an advanced class without having been tested by the Professor himself.

Hopefully she passed his _test_ and he would leave her alone.

At dinner she remained quiet once more as she ate her food, not looking forward to going to the Slytherin common room and sharing a dorm with a bunch of girls.

She's never shared a room before.

She's only spoken to two people from her house thus far and she wasn't really all that talkative. She did notice however that most were barely paying her any attention now. She just hoped that the girls in her house didn't act as pampered and judgmental as they looked.

She soon found once she entered her shared dorm after admiring the design of the common room, that her wish wasn't going to come true.

When she walked into the dorm, the three girls were glaring and scowling at her like she was intruding on their space, she knew Alphard was going to be her _only_ friend.

One of the girls resembled Alphard quite a bit but her eyes were much darker, the scowl on her face twisting up what would have been beautiful features.

Acantha ignored them however as she walked to her bed in the far right corner of the room and drew the dark green satin curtains around her so they didn't at least have to look at each other. Besides, after how her day went she was feeling overwhelmed and that was putting it lightly.

A green glow seemed to radiate off the soft stone the walls were made out of, giving her enough light to notice how tight the space was, but there was a soothing warmth that stopped the panic in her mind. She settled further into the soft bed, her eyes feeling heavy.

She wondered if the beds were spelled to help you sleep.

With a deep breath she closed her eyes, willing herself to rest or at least drown out the sound of the other girls in the dorm talking.

They were gushing about how _handsome_ Riddle was.

"I'm going to get him to go to Hogsmeade with me if it's the last thing I do!"

"Not if I do it first!"

"Please, I'll have him falling in love with me before the holidays arrive."

Acantha groaned and with a flick of her wand put up a silencing barrier.

Much better.


	4. Chapter 4

**DarkSnowman! :** Thank you for your review! I'm happy that that you like it so far. I hope this chapter does not disappoint!

* * *

 **This chapter is full of humor and tension. It's going to be quite some time before that tension is alleviated...**

* * *

 _December 18th 1944, Monday_

 _I learned a great many things today as I sat back and watched Robin's in class and how she interacts with those around her. I've already concluded that she lacks social skills and yet her interactions with Black are...out of character._

 _When she smiles at him it's genuine, the smile lighting up her face with a strange softness. He gets close to her and she leans into him in response, a trust somehow already established despite it being her first day of class and having just met him._

 _Alphard Black is honest and righteous...for a Slytherin. Very different from the rest of his family members at Hogwarts. He is still a Slytherin however and I wonder if he has other intentions regarding Robins._

 _Only time would tell but I hardly care about her... **relationship** with him._

 _I watched the two of them enjoying the snow early this morning, and even from the distance I could hear her laughter and see the joy on her face as she ran from him, completely foregoing the proper and mature image she portrayed when she was sorted._

 _What_ _ **I** care about is what Black did to make her lower her guard around him so quickly. He had to of done **something** , though I can't imagine what it would be..._

 _So my day was spent testing boundaries and analyzing results._

 _Dumbledore is only grating my last nerve with his underhanded actions and secrecy. I could tell by Robin's face that she was taken off guard as she examined her schedule._

 _She was given advanced classes and somehow I suspect Dumbledore didn't even test her first._

 _How could he when she was injured?_

 _Perhaps giving her so many classes_ _ **was** his test for her. Rather he meant to or not it put her in the same classes as me which is beneficial if my plan is going to work._

 _Something strange occurred however when I went to read the schedule over her shoulder, standing closer than necessary so I could see how she would respond._

 _She stiffened and seemed unnerved; not really surprising though it is a disappointing setback. She needs to get used to me, to think nothing of it when I'm around or standing too close. It would have been much easier had she not minded the close proximity._

 _She didn't trust me, but that wasn't what was strange though it_ _ **is** rare. Her instincts are more than likely warning her of the danger being around me creates. She is sharp to not let down her guard and while it is exasperating it is also respectable._

 _No, what was strange was the smell of peppermint that surrounded me so completely that I could no longer even smell the food from breakfast. I leaned in closer before I realized what I was doing._

 _It was her hair._

 _The incident was most certainly vexing and the strongest urge to hex her had my hand twitching and my wand burning a hole through my pocket._

 _I knew she realized something was off when she looked up and turned towards me._

 _It took everything I had to not curse her with how she was assessing **me** like she had the right to question **my** actions, her eyes narrowed and quizzical as they flickered over my face._

 _Only Dumbledore looks at me so...attentively._

 _But I digress._

 _Being the scholar that I am I felt the need to see if the strange..._ _ **tension** , between us went both ways. She followed behind me as I explained the make up of Hogwarts and when she wasn't paying attention and examining one of the hidden passageways I pointed out, I suddenly stopped, making her run into me._

 _Ignoring the feeling of her warmth against my back I turned around only to find her looking nearly intoxicated, her eyes half-mist and mouth parted slightly._

 _It was an...engaging sight._

 _Rather she knew it or not she forfeited our battle of dominance. She showed me a weakness..._

 _She is_ _ **attracted** to me ._

 _While she still doesn't trust me, (for now), attraction has a way of weakening ones perception, no matter how intelligent._

 _And intelligent she is._

 _She is knowledgeable in Potions and showed flawless wand work in Charms. She didn't crack under the pressure of being singled out._

 _Cornering her wouldn't work and with Dumbledore watching, me and my Knights have to tread carefully._

 _The wrong move would only shut her down further even if I managed to get her out into the forbidden forest..._

 _No matter, I found my way in and she won't be able to see it until it's too late._

 _It is only a matter of time before her will snaps. She will (willingly) tell me everything I want to know, than I will learn why she arrived at Hogwarts when she obviously wasn't supposed to..._

 _At least that's what the ring serving as a one way portkey sitting in the draw beside my bed indicates._

 _The coordinates should have landed her just slightly south of London._

 _ **TMR**  
_

 **Chapter Three: Second Day of Classes**

 _December 19_ _th_ _1944, Tuesday_

Acantha was showered and dressed long before the other girls even opened their eyes. With light steps she entered the common room, admiring the beauty of the roomy living space.

The floor was a light stone charmed to never be cold on bare feet. Two dark green leather couches were facing each other in front of a roaring fire that sparkled lime green. There were other tables and chairs set up throughout for students to play games or study, and a wide staircase led up to the main doorway.

Acantha especially liked the moss and vines growing from certain spots on the walls.

It was comfortable- warm.

With a barely audible sigh she sat down on one of the couches, her back remaining straight despite her desire to sink into it like it kept coaxing her to do.

Yesterday was an absolute mess.

She lost her composure more than once and that can't be allowed to happen again. School was only for seven more months. She doubted much was going to happen within that time and soon the other students and teachers won't even pass her a second glance.

She was nobody, just a teenage girl fleeing from the war in hopes of a better future.

There was only one problem.

Tom Riddle who seemed much too curious and charismatic for comfort.

"It's strange to see someone else in the common room so early in the morning. Problems sleeping, perhaps?"

The effects were immediate, her straight back stiffening painfully as that ever so silky voice broke through her thoughts like a herd of hippogriff's. She could practically feel him behind her, painfully aware of the fact that he could do whatever he wanted without witnesses.

When she stood up however all discomfort from her face and body language was gone, a polite smile on her lips. If he was taken back by her sudden _change_ towards him he didn't show it.

"Good morning Riddle. I'm used to waking up early and see no point in sleeping the morning away when time is best spent doing other things."

His eyes seemed to glint, his head tilting ever so slightly as he regarded her.

"I see," he said softly.

And then they were in a staring contest, Acantha's (fake) smile in place and Riddle's expression unreadable. It wasn't impassive, she just couldn't get a grip on the meaning behind it. That made her even more troubled.

"I...was wondering if I may ask you a few questions? I recognize that you may not want to talk about your past, but I find myself curious."

He was the perfect image of innocence as he passed by her to sit on the opposite couch. She followed his movement with her eyes, purposely holding her breath when he brushed by.

She realized he wasn't wearing the school robes, his green and silver tie a little loose around his neck and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his forearms.

For whatever reason it made her throat dry.

With elegance and poise that rivaled a king he lowered himself onto the sofa, his left arm draping casually against the back and his right elbow on the arm rest. His gaze was on her again as he rested his chin on his palm, a long index finger stroking back and forth.

She felt oddly exposed as he regarded her, her black robes laying on the couch behind her and the fire flickering beside them.

It felt... _almost_ intimate.

He lifted a brow and motioned for her to sit with a lazy wave of his hand. That seemed to finally make the fake smile fall from her face.

She recognized it for what it was.

A silent demand.

Defiance flashed in her eyes, her body standing straighter as she dropped all pretenses.

"I hardly think it's appropriate to ask someone you don't know personal questions."

There was that unreadable glint again.

"Than perhaps generic ones such as how do you like Hogwarts and what school did you go to before your rather abrupt arrival would suffice then."

She recognized the challenge in his eyes.

The fire light flickered across one side of his face causing the other side to be shadowed since it was still early and the lights were dimmed. It was like looking at two different people; the Riddle that was polite and friendly, and the Riddle she could only manage to get glimpses of but was so deeply buried that she wasn't even sure if it was a trick of the mind or not.

"Hogwarts is fine," she answered after a moment, her voice much softer than her glare. "I never went to a school. I was...taught by my father."

"Your father must be very knowledgeable to have taught you so well in Potions and Charms. I wonder how well you will perform in class today," he replied absentmindedly, turning his gaze towards the fire.

He was acting nonchalant, his face calm and body relaxed. She couldn't see his eyes, his head tilted down and a shadow hiding them from view.

When she didn't reply his gaze flickered back to her, a tense silence between them.

And then Riddle smiled a heart-stopping, breathtaking, _alluring_ smile, his lips still closed and the right side just a tad wider than the left. "I assume that the reason you are so uncomfortable with being in close proximity to others is due to being home schooled, yes? I couldn't help but to notice how tense you are during meal time."

Acantha swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

His eyes followed.

"I suppose."

A beat passed, his smile becoming almost serpentine-like as his lips curled ever so slightly.

"Interesting."

"How so?" Acantha drawled, an eyebrow raising.

He was suddenly standing in front of her, having moved from the couch faster than her mind could register.

A gasp left her lips as she stumbled backwards, the back of her legs hitting the couch.

A single arm stopped her from toppling over, cinder clouding her senses before she even realized what was happening.

"Your reaction to me is a tad... _peculiar_. You don't react other than stiffening slightly when anyone else gets too close...why is that, I wonder."

His smooth voice was barely above a whisper, his arm still wrapped around her waist and face so close that she could feel his soft, warm breaths.

Her wide eyes flickered from his mouth to his nose and finally settled on his eyes.

Big mistake.

They were _dark_ , so unbelievably _dark_.

The emotion in them was indecipherable but it made her tremble, her body becoming uncomfortably warm at his touch.

What was he _doing_ and why was her body betraying her? Her mind couldn't understand, comprehend, what was happening, what the electricity sparking hazardously between them meant.

It _frightened_ her the way her self control was wavering, in danger of collapsing completely.

"What is it about me that makes you become so tense, so guarded, so... _nervous_?"

His tone was lower now, his face closer as a single finger trailed lightly across her jaw. She couldn't stop the goosebumps or the breath from hitching in her throat though she tried to keep herself from reacting.

She felt unbearably hot and muddled with him so near, and yet she shivered when fingers ghosted up her spine, her lips parting and legs feeling oddly numb.

His gaze was so intense that she couldn't pull herself away...

"I can feel the pounding of your heart...does it do that for anyone else?"

 _What am I doing?_

"Why do you shiver...when I do this?"

His voice had dropped even lower as he peered at her through inky black lashes, his fingers ghosting up her spine and her body responding just how he knew it would.

It was insidious.

It was _seductive_.

The slight breathless, husky tone made her uncomfortable in between her thighs, causing her cheeks to flush slightly in realization.

 _What the hell am I doing?_

"Hmm, do you know _Acantha? D_ o you know why? I find myself most... _curious_."

 _He's just playing mind games, you fool! Don't fall for it!_

She blinked, roughly snapping out of whatever trance he managed to put her in and making her feel off kilter and nauseous.

She became painfully aware that at any moment someone could come into the common room and see them.

From the outside looking in they would get the wrong impression. That was the last thing she needed.

"Perhaps _Riddle_ , I just don't like you and you're misinterpreting things," she nearly growled, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

He seemed dazed for a moment, causing her to furrow her brow, but then he blinked and an impassive mask took its place.

He regarded her coolly, raising his head and looking down at her as if she were beneath him, unworthy of his full attention.

She didn't even realize he had lowered his face so they were eye to eye, only inches apart.

"If that is so Miss Robins, than explain to me why when I moved backwards you followed? After all, if I'm so _repulsive_ than I can't imagine wanting to be near me willingly."

Acantha blinked in confusion and lowered her eyes, taking note that he had removed his arm and backed up at some point.

The couch was no longer pressed against her legs, trapping her in place.

When had he moved? When had _she_ moved?

Hardening her face she backed away from him, her arms crossing across her chest and chin held high as she turned half of her body away from him.

He chuckled, the sound sinistral and matching the dark merriment in his eyes.

"Everyone will be awakening soon. Do you need an escort to the Great Hall?"

Just like that proper, straight laced Riddle was back.

"I'll wait for Alphard. I'll also have him show me to class today since he'll be in them to," she replied evenly, her tone bland.

The unreadable glint was back again, darkening his face though a slithery smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.

"Very well," he said as he turned away and headed towards the door, conjuring his school robes before walking out into the hall.

Acantha backed up until her legs hit the couch, her eyes on the common room door.

She sat down, her eyes wide, horrified and mind oddly blank.

If she didn't stop them...

"Merlin help me..."

~W~W~W~

Acantha wasn't sure how much time had passed when Alphard finally made his way down the stairs. He took one look at her and grabbed her hand, leading her gently towards the Great Hall.

"Stay here, okay? I'll be right back," he ordered gently.

Acantha nodded, her brain still a swirling mess of poisonous thoughts.

He came back only five minutes later, a conjured wicker basket on his left arm while he retook her hand with his right.

She glanced at their clasped hands, her brow furrowed.

 _"Your reaction to me is a tad...peculiar. You don't react other than stiffening slightly when anyone else gets too close..."_

She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Alphard glanced at her from the corner of his eye but remained silent. He led her up a tight swirling staircase, her eyes staying on her feet as she did her best to ignore the lack of the space between her body and the wall.

It made her uncomfortable but she was happy nothing else happened.

When they finally reached the top, Alphard holding the wooden door open for her to walk through, she found herself on the top of a tower.

The walls were charmed to show outside but not inside, the temperature pleasant. She watched the snow fall, the dark sky telling of an approaching blizzard on its way before turning around to watch Alphard transfigure his robes into a blanket.

"Take a seat my lady! Breakfast is served," he said with an overly dramatic bow.

She snorted in amusement. "Thank you good sir," she responded lightheartedly before lowering herself down carefully.

He sat beside her, digging bacon, pancakes and fresh fruit from the basket.

They began to eat, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Can I ask you a question Alphard?" Acantha asked when she finished her small plate of food and couldn't eat anymore.

She turned her attention towards her only friend, her eyes showing her uncertainty, an expression that looked out of place on her.

He frowned. "Of course. Ask anything you want."

His response made her heart soar and sink at the same time.

Her response to him would have been different...

"What made you help me?"

Alphard blinked in surprise, his hand hovering in midair with a piece of bacon halfway to his open mouth.

It was comical and had Acantha not felt so overwhelmed and weighted down she would have laughed.

He lowered his hand and frowned. "You could have been seriously hurt and to leave you alone while having a panic attack is unthinkable. The last thing you needed was to be alone."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why you brought me up here to have breakfast."

Alphard sighed and disregarded his food as he gave her his full attention. "You looked ready to cry."

Acantha blinked. "I...what?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod of his head. "You looked ready to cry."

"Oh," she mumbled, completely taken back.

Had the incident with Riddle shaken her that badly? He was so close to destroying the walls built around her heart and mind. He got _too_ close.

And she didn't move away. Why didn't she move away?

They didn't even know each other and yet the amount of tension between them was so thick not even a knife could cut it.

The way he was looking at her...

She saw something completely unholy and vicious in his gaze. She also saw a hunger that terrified her, that threatened to swallow her whole were she to give in.

Whatever he was after she refused to give him, to play along with whatever game he was constructing because she had no doubt in her mind that it was just a _game_.

A game made to make her lose sight of herself. A game to make her easy to manipulation. What other reason could there be after all?

It's not as if he would _really_ be interested in her.

His arrogance was astounding however at his assumptions that _she_ would ever be attracted to _him_.

"I know I just met you yesterday but you matter to me. Not everything is a scientific formula and not everything has an explanation. When you bond with someone you _bond_ with them. There's no rhyme or reason to it, so shush and stop fighting my friendship Robins. Eat more bacon."

A small laugh escaped her lips as he force fed her, making her push aside her rather dark thoughts.

"Thank you. I'm happy to be your friend," Acantha said after a moment of silence.

She wasn't sure how it happened but by the time it was time to go to class they were both coated in food and Alphard had a long green beard that kept trying to go up his nose.

~W~W~W~

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned out to be a battlefield.

Professor Merrythought seemed content enough turning a blind eye to the students trying to kill each other when they were supposed to be warming up with simple disarming and blocking spells.

Luckily for her the Gryffindor's left her and Alphard alone. She assumed it was because of the smirk he shared with a messy black-haired Gryffindor by the name of Charlus Potter who was doing some spell that pulled down the victims pants.

He avoided the girls however, instead focusing mainly on Malfoy who was so red in the face he looked like he was going to explode.

Acantha was stuck somewhere between horrified and severely amused.

"Ah, I do love Defense class," Alphard grinned wickedly from beside her as Malfoy was once again "pantsed" causing him to trip and knock into a tall Gryffindor girl who spun around and slapped him as hard as she could in the face.

Acantha was content to watch the mayhem surrounding her, that was until she saw something from the corner of her eye.

A hex was coming straight towards Alphard who was laughing at Potter who had been hit with a jinx that made his hair stand straight up on top of his head.

She spun around and deflected the spell before it even fully registered in her mind that there was a threat, her eyes narrowed at the person responsible in a rather intimidating glare.

Until the spell hit her own roommate, Walburga Black.

Her eyes were comical when bats began to shoot out of the dark-haired girls nose, flying around the room and getting tangled in her curly black hair.

The whole room stopped what they were doing to watch as the usually cold and scowling witch screamed and jumped around in horror before running out of the room, her screams so loud they could still hear her without straining five minutes later.

It was deathly quiet, everyone glancing at each other and at Professor Merrythought who was now looking up from her book with a raised brow

And then Alphard roared with laughter, tears falling from his eyes in streams followed by most of the occupants in the room.

After that Professor Merrythought forced them to pair up with someone from their own house until warm up time was over.

Not too long after Walburga Black returned to class, bat's no longer flying from her nose, the class followed the old Professor to the small classroom next door to begin their lesson for the day.

After the students settled down and Professor Merrythought placed Potter on one side of the room and Malfoy on the other side after they nearly cursed each others faces off, she began her lesson on Vampires and what was truth and what was myth.

Acantha's good mood was quickly squished when she realized a certain someone took the seat to her left.

She didn't even give him so much as a glance

~W~W~W~

At lunch she found herself trapped between Alphard and _another_ member of his family, Dorea Black, who she learned was dating Charlus Potter in secret. He was telling Dorea about the incident with his **twin** sister Walburga in DADA since she didn't take the class.

Dorea gave her one weighing stare, her brown eyes narrowed before a wide grin spread across her face.

She declared that after Transfiguration's they were going to move Acantha's stuff into her room so that she wasn't murdered in her sleep.

She didn't argue.

After lunch Dorea, Alphard and Acantha walked to Transfiguration's together, chatting lightly while they took their seats and waited for class to start.

Acantha quickly realized that Alphard and Dorea both loved causing mayhem She had a feeling that they got together often (most likely with Potter) and pulled some kind of a prank on those they didn't like.

She told Dorea about Alphard's green, nose picking beard which resulted in laughter from the beautiful, playful witch. Alphard glared but looked too amused and proud for it to be effective.

He soon stopped trying to look serious and patted Acantha on the head, claiming that there was hope for her yet.

The class soon fell silent when Dumbledore walked in, a bright grin on his face and blue eyes sparkling merrily.

Acantha rose a brow at the royal blue robes with yellow ducks on them and she couldn't help but to wonder how he had developed his...sense of fashion.

Regardless of her personal feelings towards the wizard she found his class enjoyable and liked that his teaching style was more hands on and less book oriented.

"Ah, Miss Robins why don't you come up here and...Mr Riddle as well!"

The class was silent as the two Slytherin's walked to the front of the room. Riddle's face was oddly blank despite his pleasant smile. He didn't even so much as glance at her.

"Miss Robins, we have been working on Human Transfiguration, are you familiar with this type of magic?" Dumbledore questioned as he regarded her kindly, no trace of the _usual_ expression he often looked at her with.

"Yes sir."

"Very good," he smiled before turning his attention to Riddle. "Tom, I would like you to show Miss Robins how it's done by doing the spell on her."

Acantha's face must have shown her discomfort.

"Don't worry Miss Robins, Mr Riddle here perfected the spell on his first try."

Of course he did, she mentally snorted.

Acantha faced Riddle who was now regarding her with expressionless eyes.

She pushed away the memory in the common room and gave him the go ahead with a simple nod of her head.

He rose his wand which was surprisingly a beautiful off white, and with a refined swish she found herself shrinking.

She could have sworn she saw a smirk on his face but it was gone before she could tell for sure.

And then the class began to laugh, Alphard's laughter the loudest.

With amusement dancing in his eyes Dumbledore conjured a long mirror.

Staring back at her was a chubby old, balding man in boxer briefs with a belly so round she didn't know how she wasn't tipping over.

She looked almost _exactly_ like Slughorn.

When she looked at Riddle again, her glare in place though it probably seemed ridiculous in her current state, she found the most unbelievable innocent expression on his face. His eyes were large and round, the dark gray a little brighter and his face soft.

His lips however were quirked up ever so slightly.

She didn't take him as being the type to play pranks and she wouldn't have believed it if she wasn't looking at the proof. She imagined he would be to _mature_ and _better than thou_.

After she was transfigured back the rest of the class chose a partner and began to practice.

Alphard made her legs longer and her breasts ridiculously large, causing Dorea to call him a pig as she slapped him upside the head.

Acantha's expression was impish when she cast the human transfiguration spell when her friend wasn't looking.

It took him fifteen full minutes to realize that the reason everyone kept staring and laughing to themselves was because she transfigured him into a middle aged woman with long orange hair and a large pointy nose.

Once he realized it however he proceeded to parade around the class room while squealing as high pitched as possible.

She met Dumbledore's eyes from across the room and realized that he was watching her closely, a small smile on his face though his eyes were guarded.

She pushed that aside however when Alphard preceded to try and take off his many layers of clothes which remained the same (that took more skill in Transfiguration's than she had).

She smiled wickedly and transfigured Alphard back into himself. Before he realized what she had done she sent another little _spell_ she had learned quite recently towards her still oblivious friend.

His pants were tugged down, baring himself to the world.

He wasn't wearing anything underneath which caused a roar of laughter from their fellow Slytherin's while the Hufflepuff's tried to shield their eyes.

She heard a chuckle behind her and found Riddle leaning against the desk with his arms crossed as he observed the scene with an amused quirk of his brow.

Before she could stop herself she gave him a wide grin, her eyes dancing with laughter as her friend continued to struggled to get his pants up.

Before she could see his response she turned her attention forward once more, doing her best to look innocent as a red faced Alphard turned accusing eyes towards her.

Dorea, who was doubled over in laughter, seemed like she wasn't going to stop anytime soon which kept the class laughing with her for the rest of the lesson.

She found she rather liked Tuesdays.

~W~W~W~

By the end of dinner Alphard still hadn't "forgiven" her though she knew he wasn't really mad. He was confident and loved a good prank. She suspected at some point there was going to be retaliation.

Dorea was a little bit ahead of her, chatting away with some of her friends as the Slytherin's made their way towards the common room.

Acantha walked alone, surprised by how good her day had been.

It was... _fun_.

Of course her morning had a bit of a rough start and even though Dumbledore watched her all throughout class and Riddle seemed to be everywhere she turned, it was still an enjoyable day.

She didn't have too many of those.

"Watch out!"

She spun around, her eyes spotting a white light coming down the hall and headed straight for her.

Before she could even react a tall body was in front of her, one arm curled behind them and wrapped around her waist holding her closely to their body, almost possessively.

"Protego!" a familiar voice shouted, their tone dangerously calm.

The hall fell completely quiet, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"Riddle..." Acantha whispered, recognizing his personal smell and the back of his head.

When she tried to move out from behind him his arm tightened, keeping her in place. She scowled at his back, hoping he could somehow _feel_ it.

If so he didn't react.

"The Stinging Hex, Miss Black? Need I remind you that dueling in the hall is against the rules?"

"No Tom, I..."

Walburga?

Acantha's eyes were now narrowed into dangerous slits as she reached with her right hand for her wand. Riddles hand soon grabbed her's however, pinning it against her back while still keeping her placed behind him.

Her arm socket was starting to ache.

"That's detention for a week Miss Black. If I see you trying to hex or jinx another student I'll make sure you won't be able to attend any of the Holiday balls."

Acantha's eyes widened in surprised by the rather harsh punishment against his own house.

He had saved her from a particularly nasty stinging hex, even going so far as to place his _own_ body in front of hers.

It made her dizzy.

Or maybe it was being so close to him that made her dizzy.

She didn't know.

All she knew was he was stroking circles on the inside of her palm, holding her against his back and reprimanding Walburga with the deadliest tone she's heard him use yet.

As the witch in question went to pass them with her head down and tail tucked between her legs, Riddle turned to watch her go, all the while _still_ keeping Acantha behind his back.

It seemed like forever before he finally let her go, his movements oddly slow.

When he turned around to meet her questioning gaze all questions died on her tongue.

His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed and so frigid she felt as if she was going to freeze from the inside out.

He looked _infuriated_.

It was a cold type of anger, the kind that rose your hackles and caught you off guard when the person snapped.

She was still as a statue when he lifted his hand, unsure of what he was going to do.

She was taken off guard when he pushed a long strand of hair away from her face with the gentlest touch, tucking it behind her ear.

She realized then that the look wasn't directed at _her_ , but at the fact that she was almost hexed.

Why would he even care? They were strangers, strangers who didn't even really like each other. Where was this sudden protectiveness, _possessiveness_ , coming from?

"I would suggest rooming elsewhere Miss Robins."

She blinked and swallowed. "I was planning on rooming with Dorea and her roommates actually."

She hated the breathlessness in her voice.

"Good," he said simply, his eyes intensifying before he stepped around her and began to head down the hall.

He only got a few steps however before he stopped.

"Oh and Miss Robins? For now on until you leave here I would watch your food and drinks carefully. Just a friendly warning."

And then he continued on his way without a glance back.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes showing her internal conflict and confusion.

Perhaps Hogwarts wasn't such a good idea after all..


	5. Chapter 5

**_Story is not abandoned!_**

 ** _My editor was giving me a lot of issues, so I apologize for any typos. I will go over again, but you see any big ones send me a message! Thank you! Hope you enjoy the story and sorry for the wait._**

* * *

 _December 19_ _th,_ _1944, Tuesday_

 _She is defiant._

 _Her eyes flash when she looks at me, narrowed and full of a fiery rage just waiting to be harnessed and released. I am the only one that she lowers her mask for. I bring something out of her, something darker and raw..._

 _She must know that, were I to **really** want harm to befall her, she would have no chance. She may not know the true extent of my power, but she tenses when I get close, her magic rising to her fingertips automatically. That is precisely why I find her willingness to stand against me both vexing and engaging._

 _She is insubordinate, resistant; her intelligence not allowing her to drop her guard, but pride blinding her to the truth._

 _I could kill her without batting a lash._

 _It would however be a waste for she is something different, more different than I have initially realized._

 _She doesn't melt when looked at with soft eyes. She doesn't coo when addressed with romanticized words. She doesn't even seem to notice the stares she gets by the opposite sex, even Malfoy sends her side glances when he believes no one is looking. This is new, and I find myself quite amused by her and her obvious nativity when it comes to interactions with others._

 _She said she was taught magic by her father._

 _I wonder if she realized the pure disdain and hate in her eyes when the words slipped from her mouth, her voice bleak and cold compared to the burning in her gaze._

 _I must admit, if only to myself within the confines of these pages, the sudden...stimulation I felt when her magic lashed out in response, flickering against my skin with heated licks. She hides it well, but underneath her proper demeanor and controlled actions and reactions is something unstable; something scratching and clawing its way to the surface._

 _I know the feeling all too well._

 _I don't think she fully realized what her magic was doing as it tried to coax mine to break free of its restraints and push back against her. It was strange, the sweetness of her magic, though there was a slight bitterness that I couldn't help but notice._

 _Though it was faint I could feel the tarnished spot in her soul._

 _It makes me what to taint her more, to see how far I can push her before she breaks. I want to see if she would cry if punished, scream if tortured; would she beg for mercy and bow, or would she fight me until her last breath?_

 _What was supposed to be a few well placed words to gain a bit of information turned into something else._

 _Tom Riddle took the backseat as Lord Voldemort lurked beneath, just barely restrained by my usual impeccable self control._

 _Her eyes were heavy, breathing labored, as she looked at me with a clouded shadow beneath the Avada green that wasn't there before; the kind of darkness only desire and lust can create._

 _I myself have not felt that kind of wanting, the kind that clouds your mind and makes you open to manipulation. Of course I have used it to my advantage to get a desired outcome, but there was never a reaction on my part._

 _I haven't fallen victim to lecherousness behaviors the way my simpleton classmates have. There are better things for me to focus my time on than physical gratification._

 _The girl has no idea what kind of being she is messing with._

 _She really shouldn't have gasped the way she did when I trailed my fingers up her spine, fingers that have caused death and torture. She most certainly shouldn't have openly defied me, resisted me,_

 _ **challenge** me; a rising Dark Lord that will put Grindelwald to shame._

 _I always win._

 _Capturing my attention is hardly ideal._

 _Keeping my attention on the other hand..._

 _For her sake she best hope I lose interest soon._

 _TMR_

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Third Day of Classes  
** _  
December 20_ _th_ _1944, Wednesday_

He sauntered through the halls, his face a calm mask that didn't match the hard glint just beneath his deadpan eyes. From the outside he looked merely serious and perhaps a bit grouchy, but on the inside he was drowning in a cold fury so frigid it threatened to burn him from the inside out if he didn't release the tension.

He wanted to hurt something.

He wanted to **kill** someone...

He forced his tempestuous magic down in a way only a truly powerful and disciplined wizard could. He was proud of his ability to control himself even in the most taxing matters.

Lestrange getting caught using Dark Magic was _almost_ enough to push Lord Voldemort past his limit.

He was enjoying his breakfast while watching the girl being fussed over by her _friends_ from the corner of his eye. The girl certainly seemed to have managed to catch the Black's attention besides the youngest Black who belonged to him and was two years behind.

She sat completely proper and still, despite the overbearing attention being directed her way by the two Black's she managed to wrap around her tiny finger. She didn't seem to like being the center of _anyone's_ attention.

An insecurity he already began exploiting.

It was then that Avery and Malfoy finally showed themselves, both looking panicked and much too transparent.

He was standing, himself and Rosier exiting the Great Hall only moments later.

With a chilling gaze, he examined his Knights, Avery's silent rage and shaking fists and Malfoy's terrified eyes despite his stoic expression.

Without saying a word he entered Malfoy's mind and what he found was almost enough to make Tom Riddle shatter for good.

Ignoring Malfoy's grunts of pain as he viciously broke the connection, he pushed passed his imbecilic followers and made his way towards Slughorn's office.

There was a chance of harming the other person's mind when being too abrasive, but as far as he was concerned the fool had no _brains_ to speak of. So far this year he only gave two orders.

 **Two.**

Keep an eye on the girl without making it known-

And don't use any dark or questionable spells unless approved by _him_ first.

Yet Lestrange decided that _he_ was above orders, choosing instead to duel with Potter _and_ use the _Umbra Hominis_ curse which is known to scare the victim to death by showing terrifying hallucinations. From what he saw in Malfoy's memory, it happened in the middle of the hall.

Right as Slughorn was turning the corner.

The silent, deadly storm brewing just behind his eyes was nowhere in sight as he entered his Head of House's office.

His eyes were instead wide and a lighter gray, disbelieving of the things his _friends_ had admitted to his other _friend_ doing. There was just a hint of disappointment and concern as he looked at Lestrange, who was staring at his feet with an ashen face.

Internally Lord Voldemort smirked, his more **superior** magic purring at the obvious act of submission and fear.

"Oh, Tom! I should have known you would hear about the duel and come," Slughorn said as he noticed the tall boy's quiet entrance.

He frowned slightly. "Sir, is what I heard true about the...display of Dark Magic?" he nearly whispered as if he were afraid someone would overhear.

Slughorn's frown deepened. "I'm afraid so, Tom. It was very illegal stuff. That can't go unpunished..."

At this Tom deepened his frown and softened his face, his hands going so far as to nervously smooth over his robes.

He made eye contact with Lestrange, Lord Voldemort glinting darkly just beneath the boyish mask.

The boy shivered, his black eyes filled with fright as he swallowed nervously.

Slughorn didn't notice.

"Professor, if I may, Rodolphus didn't know what the spell did. He came across it in his family's library during the summer break, but the book wasn't very forthcoming other than how to perform the spell. It's my fault he didn't know any better."

At this Tom lowered his head in shame.

Lord Voldemort roared in disgust at the act he was forced to portray.

"I came across the spell once in the Restricted Section while examining the books to make sure they were still protected by individual barriers, but I didn't want to tell him what it did because it was horrible and unjust. I assumed ignorance to be the better option."

The room was silent as Tom shuffled his feet, looking the full part of the guilty friend and student.

Slughorn sighed. "I trust you to take care of this Tom, and to not let it get out. I won't be able to cover for you boys again, you hear?"

Tom smiled.

Lord Voldemort smirked.

"Yes, sir. I'll handle it from here. Thank you, Professor."

He glanced once at Lestrange before turning on his heel and swiftly exiting the room and making his way down the halls. He heard his followers behind him, all anxious except for Rosier's lazy steps.

That was why he was his _favorite_ Knight. He wasn't ruled by meaningless, galling, _emotions_. He was loyal out of **respect** , not **fear;** the fear he felt was just reassurance.

They finally stopped walking once they reached a seemingly random spot on the seventh floor.

He paced back and forth only a few times before a door appeared like it had been there the whole time. He casually walked into what the Come and Go room made for him and smiled a distorted, warped smile. His eyes were two dark holes; nothing but an empty coldness in their endless depths.

It was as if there was nothing left in him that was human, all facades he carried gone.

He was standing in an elegantly decorated living room, everything inside of it superficial and expensive. It was nothing but pastel colors; designed to impress.

Under his feet was the very spot where he murdered his _father_. In his mind he could still see the lifeless dark gray eyes, much like his own, staring up at him in fright as they glassed over.

 _ **Weak.**_

He preferred that look compared to the one of disdain and disgust he was given upon first sighting. He wasn't the _filthy_ one. He was of royal blood, a direct descendent of _Salazar Slytherin_ himself.

It matters not.

By _erasing_ what was left of his Muggle linage he cleansed himself from it completely. Not even the Basilisk could smell anything other than pureblood running through his veins.

His heart was thundering in excitement in his chest, his blood warming as his magic slithered against its retrains like a hungry snake. His fingers stroked the wood of his wand affectionately, his pin-straight back to his followers still standing in the middle of a room they didn't recognize.

Lestrange never saw it coming, an angry yellow light hitting him before anyone could register that the tall teen turned around.

"Bow down, before your Lord," he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper.

His face was soft again, eyes heavy and appearing nearly intoxicated as he watched his servant's all bow as low as possible while Lestrange's screams continued. The floor was quickly filling with blood- Lestrange's- as the smell of burnt flesh tainted the air.

Lord Voldemort merely tilted his head, his face still eerily soft and eyes full of morbid curiosity as he examined the crumbled up form on the floor.

He casually walked towards his wailing servant, bending down before the broader boy with his pale yew wand hanging loosely in-between his spider-like fingers.

There was no doubt to the occupants in the room that his reflexes would still be faster than a Black Mamba which was the quickest known snake in the Muggle _and_ Magical World. He was untouchable, unbeatable; there was no escaping him. There was no turning back.

Avery was envious, Malfoy fearful, and Rosier full of respect and admiration.

Lestrange was rebellious, impulsive and seemed to forget his place quite often. The inbreeding had surely taken its toll on him.

With a lazy swish of his wand Lestrange's sleeve was removed, making him cry out so harshly that his voice broke as it tore even more at his burnt flesh.

It was pink, fleshy, raw, bloody; Lord Voldemort was pleased that the acidic curse he learned wasn't a waste of time after all, though it was impossibly messy...

His eyes glanced impassively at the increasing crimson puddle his other followers were now bowing in, not daring to move until he says so. The only one who wasn't the slightest bit bothered by the blood besides the rising Dark Lord himself was Rosier who seemed to only know indifference. Avery was still shaking in barely contained rage, and Malfoy looked green in the face, his chest heaving and eyes wide in horror.

Lord Voldemort quirked a brow in amusement, but decided that he was quickly growing tired of this game.

He was a merciful Lord after all, and he saw no point in torturing without purpose.

Besides, it was only a matter of time before punishment would be needed again...

"Have we all learned our lesson on what it means to disobey me?"

His voice was bored and dry, mask inexpressive.

"Yes, My Lord," his present followers chorused.

"Very good," he responded as he waved his wand at Lestrange's arm, the blood stopping in its tracks though the wound remained.

"Something to remember your place by, now get up. If I even see you so much as flinch..."

The threat was left hanging in the air...

~W~W~W~

Acantha hadn't had one single moment alone since Walburga Black tried to hex her in the halls. Alphard was overwhelmed by guilt, and Dorea seemed more angry than anything else. By the time she arrived in the common room, she found her belongings in Dorea's room and familiar (ear piercing) screams coming from her old room.

She didn't bother asking what her new friend had done to her own family member, but whatever it was, it caused Walburga and her roommates to be nowhere in sight the next morning.

Her two classes for the day were Herbology and Divination's (which she was dreading). She had both of those classes with Dorea, but that didn't stop Alphard from escorting her. Briefly, she wondered where Riddle was since he was supposed to be showing her to and from class, but she soon shook that thought from her head.

He may have stopped her from getting hexed in the hallway, but he was the Head Boy -of course he had to do _something_.

She erased the _rest_ of it from head, refusing to think anymore on it.

She rather enjoyed Herbology, her love for plants causing her to hang onto every word the Professor said. She knew about plants in the sense of what would be best in what potion, but her knowledge wasn't too extensive.

Dorea seemed to be more popular than Acantha realized. She spent most of her time chatting with the Ravenclaws who seemed to be okay with Slytherin's unlike the Gryffindor's and even Hufflepuff's (though she assumed it was because they were bullied aggressively by the snakes).

Acantha hummed to herself, a serene smile on her face as she tended to the baby Mandrake with more love and care than her fellow classmates who had already seen the creature at some point or another. According to Dorea it was something they had to do every year, so the Professor didn't have to do it all himself.

Either way, it filled her with a strange sense of calmness. Perhaps it was because she wasn't trapped in a huge castle where it can take thirty minutes to find a way outside.

"You have quite the _magic_ touch deary. The Mandrake barely even made a sound when you pulled her from the soil."

Acantha blinked in surprise and turned to meet the Professors kind eyes.

Professor Beery was an older man with the funniest mustache she had ever seen, the ends of it curling up slightly. His hair was still rather thick though it was gray, his eyebrow's bushy and out of control.

But his smile was bright and eyes gentle as he watched her care for the baby Mandrake.

"Thank you, sir. I didn't do anything specific," she replied a bit bashfully.

"You have a talent deary! I would cherish that. You're magic seems to be soothing to the Mandrake. I look forward to seeing how you handle other plants, Miss Robins."

And then he winked and walked off, a funny bounce to his step.

Acantha shrugged and continued on with her work while the rest of the class chatted until it was time to go to lunch.

Alphard and Dorea were soon flanking her on both sides as they continued their argument (she didn't know what it was about) from breakfast, paying Acantha no mind other than Alphard leading her by the elbow.

The only thing she caught was something about a curse that makes your hair fall out. She really didn't want to know what poor sod her vengeful friends were targeting now.

~W~W~W~

When Acantha walked into Divination's, her good mood from Herbology evaporated like it was never there to begin with.

The room itself was okay (despite the strong smell of incense and the clashing colors of purples and reds), but it became apparent that it was mainly female oriented other than a few males snoozing here and there.

Another thing that bothered her was there was only one seat left in the entire room...

Right next to Tom Riddle.

Why on earth would _he_ of all people waste his time in a class about making predictions which were never an absolute? She knew there to be real seers, but they seem to cause more problems than anything.

The future was not meant to be predicted. Just knowing about it can put you on the path of the prediction, not save you from it.

For some reason her _father_...well, he was rather obsessed with fairy tails and future telling...

Her face was blank as she made her way towards Riddle, mentally cursing Dorea for not noticing the problem as she took the _other_ free seat on the other side of the room with some of her gal pals.

When Acantha neared the table, Riddle didn't even so much as look in her direction as she gracefully lowered herself into the tiny plush chair next to his. It was an awfully tight space and his legs were much too long.

All either one of them would have to do is shift only a centimeter and their thighs would be touching.

From the corner of her eye, she glanced at the tall, enigmatical boy next to her.

He seemed to be staring at nothing, his body lax and comfortable, though his fingers were drumming against the circular table in a steady rhythm.

Deciding that it was best to not address each other, she turned her attention forward, her expression quickly becoming exasperated once Madam Greenworth began rattling on about owls and grasshoppers being a bad omen if seen in the same dream.

How does that even make sense?

"Miss Robins! What about you? Do you have any reoccurring dreams?"

Acantha pursed her lips and internally sighed. "No, Professor. I don't remember the last time I dreamt."

As one the entire class (minus the still snoozing males) turned towards her.

"No...dreams?" Madam Greenworth muttered, her large brown eyes reflecting concern as she ran her fingers through messy braided locks.

"Did you hear what I just heard class?"

At this the class nodded as one.

She noticed Dorea seemed amused as she wiggled her fingers at her from across the room.

Acantha's frown deepened in annoyance.

"We have ourselves...a nonbeliever!"

Gasps erupted around the room.

"Oh please," Acantha deadpanned under her breath.

She thought she heard a low chuckle from beside her, but when she looked Riddle's face hadn't changed, his eyes still focused on something random on the wall.

"This will just not do, girl! I will make a believer out of you before the year is through, just you wait and see!" the Professor proclaimed, overly dramatizing every letter and waving her hands so erratically that she slapped one of the snoozing boys across the face.

She either didn't care or didn't notice when he jumped fifty feet in the air with a yelp.

"If I may?" Acantha said when the class continued to glare at her.

"Go ahead, nonbeliever," Madam Greenworth replied shrilly.

Acantha's eye twitched, but she managed to maintain her composure.

"I never stated that I did not believe in seers," she said simply, and that was true.

She knew them to be real, she just thought that predicting the future and turning them into prophecy's was a bunch of load.

The professor blinked and then sighed, as if Acantha was the one exasperating _her._ "If you don't dream girl, then you are a nonbeliever. That is how it works."

"Make things up if you have to."

She blinked, forgetting what she was about to say as she turned her head to meet the burning gaze now on the side of her face.

"Predicting the future is ridiculous, Riddle. The future is never absolute. It changes all the time and more often than not being told a prophecy is what puts it in action. People try to change them when it's those actions that put them on that path to begin with."

Riddle rose a dark brow, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. "One could argue that it was their destiny to hear the prophecy and have it set them on that path, so what was predicted comes to pass."

Acantha just barely fought off the scoff that desperately wanted to make itself known. "We are not meant to know the future. Knowing the future never changes things for the better. Besides, prophecy's are in nothing but riddles which could mean a thousand things. Most are grasping at straws when they decipher them. They have caused wars and deaths just by assumptions alone."

"A prediction cannot be held responsible for foolish ignorance," he replied easily, the right side of his mouth still quirked up. He tilted his head, his upper lids lowering as he coolly regarded her. "I think you just fear losing control and not having a say in your destiny, therefore you block out any potential you may have. But it's just a false security. We all have a part to play rather it be the hero...or the villain."

Acantha narrowed her eyes, completely turning in her seat to better glare at Riddle, but before she could reply claps echoed around the room, Madam Greenworth gazing at the Head Boy with obvious affection.

A red flush was just barely noticeable against the dark tone of her cheeks.

This time she did scoff, not caring if Riddle heard.

"That's right, Tom! Divination is not about what's absolute, but about giving power to the stars and opening our minds to the experience."

Acantha merely crossed her arms, wiping her face clean of emotion.

"As I said," Riddle suddenly whispered, his voice much closer than before, "fear of losing control."

"As if you're one to talk," she mumbled back dryly.

She knew she was acting a bit out of character, but there was something about Riddle that made her struggle to contain herself.

If she didn't know any better it was as if he were pushing her button on purpose.

She was happy when he remained quiet beside her.

The rest of the class was spent trying to read the tea leaves in her cup. Madam Greenworth seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder, a rather petty move in Acantha's opinion.

It was a bunch of nonsense...what on earth were _squiggles_ and _blotches_ supposed to mean?

"Ah, nonbeliever, how about you tell us what you see in your own cup and Mr Riddle will translate for us."

Acantha glanced up from her tea cup at the glaring teacher before raising a brow at Riddle, who was lazily thumbing through the translation book. He returned her glance with a quirk of his own brow.

"Fine," she said as the class turned their attention towards her. She stared into her cup, willing an image to show up just so she can get it done with.

Madam Greenworth seemed to take pity on her as she walked closer, her face softening. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath. You're trying too hard to make something appear that you're not looking at what's already there."

Acantha mentally shrugged and did as the crazy Professor said to the best of her ability.

When she opened her eyes and looked back down into the cup it somehow looked different. It looked like... "A dragon, I see a dragon," she murmured.

Riddle began to flip through his book.

"Anything else dear?" Madam Greenworth questioned, her tone much softer and a touch excited.

"I think I see...a face with...horns? And a...magnet...I guess."

"Very good Miss Robins!" the Professor cheered, her eyes bright as she turned towards Riddle.

Acantha didn't like the calculating look in his eye when he looked up from the translation book.

"To see a Dragon means to go through a great or sudden change which there is an element of danger. To see a devil figure or a figure with horns is a warning that reformation is needed, or that they may find themselves so tightly in the grip of bad influence that it will be impossible to extricate themselves. To see a magnet...is a sign of _**irresistibly**_ being attracted or drawn to someone who they may feel more personal dislike towards despite the pull they can't deter from."

...What?

"Therefore," Riddle drawled as he turned his attention away from Madam Greenworth and looked her square in the eye instead. "Your tea leaves are telling you that the change you're going through is full of danger due to the fact that you are drawn to someone you can't resist no matter how you may want to. They will wound themselves so tightly around you that you won't be able to escape, unless you can resist the temptation that is..."

Dark eyes in that moment were looking right _through_ her like she was lucid, like they knew more about what her stupid cup was saying than she did.

It was just tea leaves. She wasn't _irresistible_ drawn to anyone. It was just tea leaves.

Riddle moved, his leg sliding against hers under the table.

Her heart sputtered, the warmth from his leg seeping straight through the thin fabric and into her very skin.

It didn't mean anything. The way he was looking at her, knowing and _patient_ as if it were only a matter of...

No, it didn't mean anything. It wasn't something she believed in anyway. They were just tea leaves and he was, for whatever reason, playing with her.

It. Didn't. Mean. **Anything**.

For the rest of the class she remained quiet, ignoring the wizard beside her who made it easy by ignoring her to.

It didn't mean anything that she kept her leg against his...and when he moved it there was a strange ache in her chest.

Not one thing.

~W~W~W~

She was silent as she watched Dorea run towards Potter with a mixture of anger and loving concern in her gaze.

Acantha and Alphard were guarding the entrance of the hospital wing, making sure that no one saw the taboo couple.

She thought it completely ridiculous that they had to hide it.

They looked right together.

Potter's hair was dark brown and messy -Dorea's hair was pin-straight and black. Potter's eyes were a light hazel - Dorea's was a deep blue.

But the way they looked at each other was similar, and it was something that Acantha had never seen before.

It put an uneasy feeling in her chest, a knot that squirmed and threatened to choke her.

Potter was smiling as Dorea wagged her finger at him, speaking so low that she was basically hissing. With each word his smilegrew wider until he was full on beaming. He said something, making Dorea go silent before she collapsed in his arms with an undignified huff.

All Acantha knew was Potter got hurt in a duel against Lestrange, a fellow Slytherin and someone in _his_ group. The Gryffindor however, didn't remember much, but he seemed to be taking it in a stride which was what set Dorea off to begin with.

That, and the fact that she didn't hear about it until after dinner when they were passing a group of Gryffindor's whispering much too loudly.

Acantha needed to get away, the constricting feeling in her chest becoming too much to bare.

"Alphard, I'm going to go ahead and head back to the common room. I have some homework that I need to start on," she said much too calmly for what she was feeling.

Alphard turned his attention to her, an amused smile on his face, which flickered ever so slightly until it was strained. She realized then that her expression was too icy and words too short, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

He nodded, though it was hesitant.

She slipped out of the room and into the dimly lit halls, her steps brisk as if she couldn't get out of the area fast enough. The further she walked, the less knotted her chest became and the better she could breathe.

She sighed and ran a tired hand through the ends of her curly hair, annoyed at how handicapped she was emotionally. She didn't understand what she was feeling half the time, having never felt the odd feelings before.

Now she felt off kilter and like the world was spinning in circles around her, everyone speaking in a language she didn't understand.

Dumbledore made her brain ache and filled her with unease, the way that he watched her confusing and disheartening.

Alphard had already become _someone_ to her; she never had a friend before and the potential outcomes made her cautious.

Dorea...Dorea was what she _could_ have been, had she been raised by someone else.

Around her was laughter, rivalry, new love, old love, different ideas, so many different personalities; all of these emotions and she didn't know where to stand or how to respond to any of it. They were separated from the war outside, untouched by reality, _her_ reality.

Sometimes she can lose herself and join in on the fun, or even allow herself to lean into Alphard's touch, but she couldn't forget who she was, whose blood was running through her veins, who taught her the magic that rested at the tips of her fingers.

It is **who she is** _,_ for bad or for worse, but she can't allow herself to become distracted or lose sight of herself. To do that would be dangerous. She knew deep in her heart,she would never be truly free or safe, not with her father still alive.

And Tom Riddle...

She didn't understand what role he had in all of this. Yes, he was the one who found her and he was suspicious, but she was not so naive as to not see that _something_ was happening.

He seemed to take pleasure in cornering her, disorienting her, invading her personal space, and then stepping back so quickly she wasn't sure if she made it up or if it really happened. It was unnatural how he could change at the drop of a hat, and Acantha was far from prepared to deal with the complexity of it all.

Too many things were happening too soon. It was almost like a dream, like she would wake up back in her prison.

A pained gasp left her lips when something hard and heavy slammed into her, knocking her down and taking her breath away. Her instincts had her on high alert, her eyes wild as she grabbed her wand and scurried away.

Before her was a tall, dark-haired boy, curled up on his side and hiding his face in his robes. He appeared to be clutching his arm, his body shaking dangerously.

Acantha merely watched him, her mind still on high alert. Everyone was a threat, no matter how seemingly harmless. She forced herself to lower her wand as she shifted to her knees.

He looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she had seen him before.

"Are you hurt?" she asked as she examined a glimmer of green on the collar of his robes.

Slytherin.

Her voice seemed to be enough to remind him of where he was.

He shot up so fast that Acantha's wand was in his face, her magic flowing around her and at the ready. Void, black eyes gazed at her impassively, sunken into a too thin face which was pale and ghostly.

Lestrange.

His cracked, bloodied lips lifted into a revolting smile, the fresh wounds caused by teeth marks starting to pour blood into his mouth. He chuckled low as he looked her over, making her feel like he could see through her clothes. She fought down the disgusted shiver, but she couldn't shake off the dreadful foreboding feeling.

"Soon witch, you will understand all too well..."

Acantha was on her feet the moment he made a move, his body leaning towards her slightly.

He froze, his smile becoming wider.

"I have a question," he purred, the insanity now shining in his eyes. "Have you ever experienced evil, true evil?"

Her whole body went stiff as a board, her face becoming clean of all emotions as nausea began to churn her stomach.

She was missing something. She was missing something big.

"Yes," she finally answered, but she couldn't stop the slight shaking of her voice.

Lestrange hummed as he slowly stood, his arm still cradled to his chest. "Evil perhaps, but not true evil. Your magic says it all," he said as he finally let his arm dangle down.

She didn't move a muscle as he started to walk towards her, only to stop and bend his head down to her ear."Just remember," he whispered, the smell of his breath putrid, "if you play with fire you will get burned alive."

She remained standing in the hallway, even after he turned the corner and was gone. Her eyes were on the floor where he as lying, a dark, thick substance she knew all to well leaving its mark.

He was bleeding from the wounds on his lips, but something told her the blood on the floor was from another wound entirely.

The biggest question of all was if he was threatening her...or warning her.

She had a feeling that she would know the answer soon enough. For the first time since her arrival to Hogwarts she was unclear if she made a wise decision to stay.


End file.
